What Could Have Been
by Around Here Somewhere
Summary: A mash-up of what could have happened. Completely AU. What if our lovely Olivia and Fitz had a different beginning, and a different middle of their lives? Where it all starts with a connection that neither of them can forget, and fate disguised as coincidental run-ins. But what does it all mean? Where does it lead? And what will happen with their equally overbearing fathers' plans?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Scandal. (I know, shocker)

A/N: Yay winter break! What do I do? Start a new Fanfiction, of course:) The first chapter's a little shorter, but just a start…This involves Fitz meeting Olivia for the first time when she was twelve, and he was twenty four - don't get too worried about it, though. It's just a quick part of the story...Let's see if I can finish IKYBH and flesh this one out in a little under three weeks. Ready. Set. Go. And of course, you should leave me a note at the end, (just warning you the whole 'Part I' of this is set up, so it might be a little slow) to tell me whether you like it or not and if I should bother to keep going. Enjoy :)

What Could Have Been

Part I: As Fate Would Have It

Chapter One

It was cold, or at least approaching it as Fitz leaned back in his chair, testing the springs a little bit as he ran his hand through his hair. It was getting long, but who ever had time to get something as trivial as a haircut when they had a country to run? He sighed as he got a side glance out the window, it was almost as if he had to schedule this in, so that he got a glimpse of the natural light before it was gone. It was almost Thanksgiving, wasn't it? The fall had fully set in, and it was starting to threaten winter. Though, Fitz didn't mind winter was his favorite, not due to anything other than the fact that most of the time the summer was too painful. It brought on too many thoughts, and too many memories. Winter, it was cold, everything got sluggish, and he could focus in on what he had to do. Like the notes he was supposed to be looking over for the assembly he was holding later on in the day. But as he looked down, crouching back over the desk he realized something that he hadn't before, the date in the top right corner of the document, the date on his schedule that Cyrus had dropped off earlier in the day.

It was November 22, 2013. He sighed as the fact of it sank in, and dropped the notes he had barely picked up back down on the desk. He was frozen, it felt as if a shard of glass had ripped its way through the very center of his chest. Pain, like he was having a heart attack, palpitations – something. But he wasn't, it was simply that this day had this effect on him every year, and it never got any easier. The flip of his stomach, the feeling of his heart being pierced by something so large he couldn't imagine what it could possibly be except perhaps a melon baller, simply scooping out the center portion of his heart. It never, no matter how many years had passed, got any easier. The pain and the anger never got any duller. It never was going to go away, was it?

As long as he still had his memory, it was going to stay that way. As long as he was alive, the dates – all of them were going to destroy him, slowly. He could already feel it, his heart slowly, ever so slowly deteriorating, and taking the rest of his major organs with it. He got up from the desk and went over to the coffee table that was in the middle of the Oval and poured himself a drink. He then Collapsed onto the couch with a breath before downing his glass.

**January 13, 1991**

He stood in front of the mirror in his hotel room, trying to make sure that his tie was straight. His hands were shaking, and he swallowed, trying to calm his nerves just enough to make sure that he could make himself presentable. Finally he just ripped it all out, and let it drape down his chest as he went over to the mini bar and took out one of the little hotel-sized scotches that were pretty standard for the hotel. He swallowed down one within a matter of seconds, then had another before going back over to stand in front of the mirror. He had done what he had to do, no matter what his father had said – he was a hero. The alcohol was hitting his system, and he could feel his hands starting to steady. He re-tied his tie around his neck carefully, and it looked fine. He took another deep breath before going over and grabbing his wallet from the dresser.

No matter the fact that he had just downed two mini-bottles of scotch, which only barely affected him anyways – his last argument with his father was still running like an album turned all the way up on a stereo. His father's words were going in a circle, telling him – boasting at him that even though he had gone into the Navy, even though he had effectively run away from home – in the end it was his father that had had to clean up his mess. He had had to go running back to his father's house to hide, to seek shelter, like a little kid who realized that he couldn't just live inside the hedge down the street. Because he wasn't at all independent, was he? He was nothing like the man that he had sworn to himself in school he would be. That he wouldn't be that spoiled asshole that everyone always teased him about being. But there he was, twenty-four and he had. He had just run home. He was his father's puppet.

He thought about going to the fridge for another drink, but decided against it. It wasn't exactly someone who would appreciate him showing up to the Gala drunk off his ass who invited him. It was one of his commanders in the Navy, the one who had sent him on his last mission. He was throwing a gala at the Smithsonian, and he had invited Fitz, and some of the lower ranks to come. Fitz hadn't really had a choice, because he needed to get out of the house. He needed out of the mansion, because if he wasn't actually physically there, in his father's house, then he could almost pretend that this wasn't the case.

"Fitz," Jake, one of the younger pilots from the mission he had supposed to have taken part in clapped him on the shoulder as he walked into the Gala, in matching dress blues with Jake.

"Hey," He said quietly as a passing waiter came by with a small platter of appetizers, which they plucked from the plate unashamedly.

"You seen Rowan?" Jake asked him, and Fitz shook his head.

"Signed the guest book though, he'll know I was here," He said, taking a deep breath before popping the little pastry into his mouth and swallowing it nearly whole.

"Mmm," Jake said, nodding a little bit as he swallowed as well, "Hey, has he talked to you at all – since the mission?"

"Nope," Fitz replied, not anything more than sending out the invite to this.

"Right," Jake said, like he was disappointed about something – but Fitz wasn't really paying attention.

Fitz slowly made a break from Jake. There was, of course, the fact that Jake was probably the closest thing that he had to a friend, and when he said that – the closest thing to a best friend. He understood, and had the closest experiences with what Fitz had gone through in the past couple of months. They had gone through training together, and he had been originally put off by the fact that Jake was so young, barely eighteen – but there was no questioning why he had rised through the rankings so quickly. He was smart, and he was careful, he got things, and carried himself with the maturity of a man much older than he was. Jake was at least five years younger than every single guy on that mission, and yet he carried himself the best. At least that's what Fitz had thought – until the commanding officer had pulled him from the original mission to make him – but he couldn't think about it.

It wasn't like it was something horrible, well the atrocity was awful. But it was for the greater good, wasn't it? He had killed – murdered some three hundred passengers in cold blood – they were innocents. They had no idea what was about to happen to them, and yet he had been sent to shoot them down. He shook his head. He couldn't think about it that way. He had to think about it as it was. There was a bomb on that plane. There was a bomb on the plane. It was going to explode, the whole plane, as soon as it landed at Heathrow. At Christmas time? At one of the world's busiest airports? Who knew – who could have possibly known – how many it could have killed. How many lives he had saved. That's what he had to focus on, the lives saved, not the ones that were lost.

So why was he still feeling an overwhelming urge to go over to the open bar?

No. He couldn't. He couldn't drink like that. That was his father – and if he was going to do anything – even if he couldn't escape Jerry right now, he was never going to be anything like him.

"Fitzgerald," His father's old friend, Verna Thorton came over to him, "How are you doing? Your father told me that you just got back from your deployment."

Fitz was a hundred percent sure that the fact that he had just gotten back came up in a conversation with many, many other components.

"I'm doing ok," He lied through his teeth, but luckily he knew Verna enough to know that she reYally didn't care, as long as he was acting fine – he decided to add in a joke, "I'm still getting used to being on land."

"Flyboys are all the same," Verna joked back, rolling her eyes a playfully, "Well, have a nice evening. I'm sure you can appreciate a night off, and a little bit of a party now that you're back on American soil."

"Yeah, will do," Fitz replied, taking a breath as she walked away.

He had been following an order. Period. He was a navy man, a flyboy – the best. That's what happened, you got an order and you followed it out – no questioning it.

He wandered around a little bit, eating as things were offered to him, and taking a seat for dinner. He sat through the speeches about the new collection they were setting up in the air and space museum. He assumed that this was his commanding officer's sense of humor coming out, inviting them to a party for the air and space museum. Clever. He lingered after the speeches, the party was far from over, and he wanted to avoid putting himself in his room by himself at all costs. The idea of the bar in the lobby, and the amount of alcohol that was in the hotel room was far, far too much of a temptation. If only he wanted to socialize. Catch 22.

"Excuse me," He heard a small voice behind him, like a mouse's whisper, and he turned around.

Standing behind him was a little girl, he couldn't quite place how old exactly she would be. She looked distinctively pre-teen, but there was something about her. The way that her hair was fixed, like it was the first time that someone had put in the effort to press it, and the dress – it was brand new. That was what made her look young, but there was something about her dark, wells of eyes that were looking up at him that made her seem old. Maybe not old, but there was something there – something he recognized. It was a sadness, a depth that he had only really seen when he was looking in the mirror. She had thick black framed glasses, and a book clasped under her arm like she knew that she would be bored here – and she had been dragged there by someone.

"Is there something I can help you with, miss?" He asked, not sure why he was being so formal, or polite.

"If you could just step aside, I want to get a drink," She said, and he was slightly taken aback.

He did as she requested, and then watched as she tried to juggle a soda, and a plate full of little snacks. Like she was loading up so that she could find somewhere to hide with her book, and not have to worry about getting up, or socializing. He understood the notion, and smiled a little as she attempted to start loading her arms up so she could carry everything – which she clearly wasn't going to be able to do.

"Can I help you?" He asked her.

"No, I've got it."

"Are you sure?" He said, "I'd hate to see you spill your drink all over your book."

"Fine," She said, looking down at her hands and realizing that there was no possible way that she was going to be able to pull it off.

"Here," He took her plate for her, holding it out like a waiter, "Where are you sitting?"

"Right over here," She started to lead him towards the corner of the room – towards an empty table.

"What's your name?" He asked, making conversation to keep it from being awkward.

"Olivia," She told him, matter-o-factly, "Olivia Carolyn Pope. What's yours?"

"Fitz."

"Oh."

"So what're you reading?" He said, leaning down a little bit as they were making their way through the crowd.

"Bridge to Terabithia," She answered him, and he nodded.

"Is that for school?"

"No," She said, "Well, it was – I finished reading it weeks ago. It was for my old school, we got to pick a book for a report – my mom suggested I read it."

"And you liked it so much you carry it with you?" Fitz asked her as they reached the table and he set the plate down for her.

"Kind of," She said, sitting down at the table, and he started to back away, "Where are you going? You can sit down if you want."

"Sure," He said, not really knowing what else he would do to kill time – and there was something – engaging about her, "What do you mean kind of?"

He sat down, with a seat between them.

"Well, I just like having it with me, it's a good story."

"It is," He agreed, he remembered reading it at some point – his own mother giving it to him to read, "Where is your mother? You're all alone?"

"I'm with my dad," She told him, and Fitz nodded, "My mom – "

"Yeah?"

"My mom died a couple of weeks ago," She finally came out with it, and Fitz nodded – well that explained the sadness.

"I'm sorry about that," Fitz said.

"I like to carry the book around."

"My dog died when I was ten, I carried his collar around with me for years," Fitz told her, again, not sure why he felt so at ease.

"That's stupid," She replied simply, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah," He said, with one of his first smiles in he couldn't remember, nodding, "But it helped."

"I don't want to carry this book around," She replied, "I just miss her, you know?"

"Have you tried to talk to your dad about it?"

"He doesn't know what he's doing," Olivia stated like he should know this, "He wasn't ever – "

She spoke like an adult, sometimes.

"Say no more – sounds a little like my dad," Fitz nodded, and she smiled.

It hit him like he had walked headlong into an electric fence. His whole body was on edge, and he could feel his heart racing right into melting into a puddle in his chest. He blinked for a second, and could feel it start to sink into the rest of his body – his brain working on overdrive. No, she was what, twelve? He had clearly had a little too much to drink, right? But there was a connection there – where there couldn't be. There was now way – he wasn't like that. He wasn't a creep. He shouldn't be sitting there, he shouldn't even be talking to her.

"Where are you going?" She asked him innocently, and he swallowed.

"I have a couple of people I still have to talk to," He said, now looking down at the girl, half of his age, "It was very nice to meet you, Olivia."

He gave her a little smile, then made a b-line for the exit. Maybe those drinks in his room weren't the worst thing that could happen to him that night. How could he feel something so strong? What the hell. How was he supposed to react to something like that? How was it even possible. He just had to get as far away from her as possible. Had he really started to make himself that miserable? Misery loves company, that much was true – but to make a connection with a little girl – so young. What the hell was the matter with him? Someone should lock him up. But one thing was certain, Olivia Carolyn Pope had made an impression. She was dangerous. Bad, and he needed to stay as far away from her as possible – to forget her. Immediately. However, something told him that wasn't going to be as easy as he was hoping it was going to be.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So, about halfway through this chapter you sort of get where this story's going. Hence why this one has two dates instead of one, like the rest of them will have. However, I couldn't skip out on the first one, because it'll come up later. And yes, I will go back and work on my other stories – but I wanted to get this one off the ground…I was going to wait, but then I couldn't I've missed having the time for this...Enjoy :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Two

**March 17, 1996**

He woke up tired, with his arms around his girlfriend, Michelle, completely and entirely hung over. She was still asleep, and he intended to leave her that way, as he snuck out of bed in a way where he would not wake her up. It almost felt as though he were diffusing a bomb, any sudden and wrong movements, and she went off like a rocket. Death to everyone within a five foot range, or at least that had been the way it had gone down the night before. Now, there was no way anyone could call him anything even close to good with relationships – most of them lasted a grand total of two to three months – but he and Michelle, they were always fighting. He hated it, and was growing to hate her and it had only been a couple of weeks. Maybe a month – but it felt like he had been bonded to her as punishment ages ago.

As he was getting into the shower, popping a couple aspirin as he stepped under the hot stream of water. He had to start assuming that this was because his father was trying to get back at him. Michelle had been his choice, no matter how 'hot' he thought Michelle was, which was why he had gone along with it – she had been his father's pick. That was probably why he had so much trouble just trying to accept her as she was. He was starting to think that his father had introduced them, knowing that this was how it was going to end up. Like he was trying to enact some sort of sick revenge for the last string of Fitz's girlfriends who even he had to admit were fairly slutty, and not exactly what a young US congressman should be taking around. But then again, a young US congressman shouldn't be drinking as much as he did, or acting in the way that he really always had.

"Fitz," He heard Michelle outside the door as he got out of the shower, and dried off.

"Be out in a minute," He called, adding in a corresponding 'bitch' at the end, in his own head.

She probably wouldn't be that bad if he didn't so much associate her with his father. He dried off, and got dressed, ready to go to work for the day, and then walked out into the hallway, where she was standing in a bathrobe waiting to get into the bathroom.

"What is it?"

"You're not going to apologize? Fuck you, asshole," She seemed upset, he had stopped apologizing at least a week ago, he wasn't sure she had ever even started.

"I have to go to work," He told her, "I don't want to fight about whatever the hell it is this time again. Get out of my way."

"Are you going to leave me your credit card?" She asked, "I wanted to get some shopping done today."

No.

"No," He brushed by her and headed for the door, "Not today. Today I want you out. I'm done with this mess. I'm done with you. Pack up your stuff – I want you out of here by the time I get back."

He hopped into his car, and started up the engine. It was just starting to get to be spring time, and that meant that he was headed towards some random school function. His pollsters and election team told him, like they did every year that as much exposure and 'heartwarming' events that he could make it to, and the more speeches he could give to places that would set him apart a little bit, were going to make him into what he wanted to be. They were going to make him into what his father wanted him to be. But that was just good politics, right?

So that was why this morning he was on his way to Southwestern Academy, where he was going to be addressing kids from schools all over the area, and some even from outside. His 'manager' Cyrus that his father had hired had been in charge of arranging the whole thing. He had described as 'good 'ole Republican exposure'. He was going to be talking to about three hundred 'Future World Leaders' as one of the first speakers, before the governor, and before some large business owner was the main speaker. High school kids. Cyrus's thought process was that by the time he was running for senate, or anything that was a little bit larger than Congressman, these kids would be voting.

So, he drove up there and gave his speech, and then waited until it was a proper time to go home, hoping that his speech wasn't nearly as dry as the ones that followed it.

"Great speech," He heard a rather distinctive voice behind him as he went out to take a break in the hall, "Only you messed up part of it, didn't you?"

He turned around to see who was there – and had to take a step back. Olivia? She had – well – grown up quite a bit since he had helped her with her snacks. She was taller, and was starting to grow out of any sort of child-like tendencies that he remembered from before. Her hair was – perfect, and she had gotten contacts since he had last seen her. Since he had last run away from her, but her eyes were still the same. He swallowed hard, trying to play it off like she didn't scare the shit out of him. Like he didn't know that she was the same as he.

"How did you know that?" He asked, buying for time as he was trying to figure out if he should let her know that he remembered her or not.

"It was easy, you shifted and gave a little pause before going into something that – no offence, was entertaining, but no where near the point you were trying to make," She pointed out, "Don't worry, even the best speech makers make the same mistake. They're realizing their audience is falling asleep, and they adjust to try and make a small anecdote of interest, and usually – like in your case – it works because ninety percent of the audience couldn't tell you what you were talking about before that, anyways."

"And how did you get to be such an expert, Olivia?" He asked, her name escaping before he could remember that he was going to pretend not to remember her.

"I'm studying speech making in particular this semester," She told him, "I figure it will help with my closing arguments."

"You want to be a lawyer," He surmised, "I'd say you're definitely on the right track. But what are you doing here?"

"I'm going to Andover," She replied, "One of the teachers there, my legal studies teacher could pick a couple of us – and I didn't really have the choice."

"Andover's here?"

"Just a couple of us," She replied, off the cuff.

"Let me guess, your dad made you come?"

"I wanted to stay behind and work on a project for my Speech class," She replied, sighing, "How'd you know?"

"My father would have done the same," He said, and she smiled – but he had been ready for it – he had braced himself for it.

"Well, Congrats," She replied, taking a heavy sigh, "On congressman, you're going to do really well."

"Am I? I thought I completely just –"

"Threw out your speech in the middle of a point you were trying to make and pulled the rest of it out of your ass while you were up there?" She filled in for him, like they spoke regularly, like she had already picked up on his habits of speaking, "Yeah, I know. That's why you're going to be great. They completely ate it up in there – ninety five percent of a good speech is just knowing your audience, Fitz."

"Right," He said, and she nodded.

"I'm sure I'll see you around," She dismissed herself, "I should be getting back."

**December 20, 1999**

Fitz lifted the lower half of his bagel and took a bite as he tried to ignore Cyrus's babbling on. They were up in the Northern half of the state, where he was going to be able to find more Republican votes. He was running for senator, finally – according to his father he had probably should have done this years ago, but he couldn't imagine why he wouldn't want to. He was just starting to consider himself a stable human being, which was dangerous in its own right, even if he was starting to drink less, even if his pain was starting to die off. Cyrus just kept on talking as Fitz nearly shoved the warm, toasted and cream cheese covered goodness into his mouth, and chewed.

"Fitz," Cyrus called, in an 'Earth to Fitz' manner, "Fitz? Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes," He lied, "This speech is important It just might swing a few votes, and Colleges are always important in elections. 'You never quite know which way young voters are going to swing, and when they do – they are heard. Just because their parents are Republican, and they were raised that way doesn't mean we can assume we have their vote.'"

Fitz smirked because he knew that he had quite literally said exactly what Cyrus had just said back at him, even though they both knew that he had been way more interested in his breakfast than what Cyrus was trying to say to him. He smirked a little at the frustration on his face, it was like a little ray of sunshine into his day, the fact that he could annoy Cyrus just a little bit. It was childish and foolish, but he had to get his kicks where he could find them. Though, he had to admit Cyrus did make his life a whole hell of a lot easier than it would have been doing all of this election crap without him.

"Have you spoken to your father recently?"

"No. I thought that was why I have you," Fitz replied curtly, he knew it wasn't Cyrus's job to run between them, but he did it anyway.

"He and I are concerned," Cyrus said, and Fitz raised an eyebrow – it was never good when Cyrus said something like that.

"About what?" Fitz asked, actually bothering to pause his meal, "Experience says when you two are both worried about something…"

"It's the girlfriend factor, Fitz," Cyrus said, and Fitz rolled his eyes, "Too many, too quickly. I don't think you've kept the same girl more than a couple nights in months."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Fitz asked, shrugging as he went back to his bagel.

"It has to do with _everything_," Cyrus's blood pressure was rising, Fitz could tell by the way his face was oddly redder than usual, "How are they going to trust you with more responsibility in the state if you can't even be trusted to call a girl back the next morning? If you can't even be bothered to keep a steady girl rather than just go out and find whoever's willing to go home with you? I mean granted, you're a good looking son of a bitch – but people don't trust that. They have to be able to trust you. And if women can't – then the American people by large won't trust you."

"I'm fine on my own," Fitz said, getting up from the table they had been occupying inside of the hotel they were staying at.

"You may be fine on your own, but this senate seat, it's not just going to be handed to you," Cyrus said, "Your father's stepping down – people might think it a little much to be giving it to his son. A little too hierarchical, because people still like to pretend that's not what this is."

"I have a speech to give in twenty minutes, Cy," Fitz reminded him, looking at his watch quickly.

"Right," He said, "Damn right you do. Now smile and wave, and remember to…."

He started to go off into a long rambling speech about being personable when giving speeches. Fitz didn't even pretend to be listening this time, he had heard this from him so many times that at this point, he had it memorized - backwards and forwards. He could probably recite the whole thing word for word in reverse order, and thought that maybe, next Cyrus starts to get into it, he would. Just to spice things up a little bit, keep Cy on his toes, and make him think that possibly, for the love of God, he should rethink telling him the same things before every single damn speech. Cyrus was a genius; Fitz wasn't going to fight that, that's why he was running all of his campaigns. But the little speeches and monologues, they were – at points – a killer.

The speech went off without a hitch, and he was walking down off the stage to applause as he noticed someone sitting towards the back. He chuckled to himself a little bit, and made his way over. Olivia was sitting in the back, her legs up against the back of the empty chair in front of her. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail like she had just decided to stop by after she had been studying in the library. She didn't see him walking towards her, and he couldn't believe just how beautiful she had turned out to be. Even with her hair pulled back and her glasses on, she had clearly made a last minute decision to show up, but he didn't care he as just glad she had seen a reason to show up. That she had wanted to see him, even if the chances of actually having a chance to talk were slim. She looked up as he was heading down the aisle towards her – the auditorium was emptying – and they locked eyes as he sat down next to her.

"How did I do this time?" He asked, unable to stop from noticing the way that her hair fell onto her back before she turned to face him, and he couldn't see it anymore.

"You're getting better," She didn't sound all that impressed, and he smiled, "There you go, is that so hard?"

"What?" He asked, genuinely confused and a tad alarmed at her comment.

"Smiling, you hardly ever do it when you're up in front of people," She said, and he frowned a little bit, trying to find points in his memory to validate her point, "You never smile when you're up there. You have a great smile, you should use it to your benefit. I'm surprised your campaign manager hasn't said anything to you. It's really, almost scary when you're up there. I mean you're charismatic, and our you're cute so you get what you're trying to tell them across, but it doesn't come off as great as it could be."

"I'm cute?" He asked, he was sure that she had just told him something very useful, and he didn't want to diminish that by saying something like that – but he couldn't help it.

"With the hair, and the eyes – yes, that's generally what I would call it," She replied, throwing a text book – one he recognized as pre-law into her bag.

"You were studying while I was talking?"

"I'm always studying," She replied, "Why?"

"And you were still able to tell me what I did wrong?"

"It's easier to pick up on something wrong than to pick up on something right," She replied, and he nodded slowly.

"Well, what're you doing tonight?" He asked, and she looked up at him quickly.

Her tough exterior and her know-it-all poker face – for a quick second had completely vanished. It was gone, for a second and that was all it took for him to realize what was happening. How long this had been in the cards, and at least for her – how long it had been wanted. Warranted. She seemed to realize she had slipped up too, and it only took her half as long to slap back on her tough little poker face, and stare back up a him.

"I have homework."

"You're in college, it's Friday night," He said, "Let me take you out to dinner, or something? Anything? C'mon, at the very least it's a meal away from the dining hall."

"Ok," She said, with a little smile – damn it, that had certainly changed for the better as well as they got up and were heading out of the building.

"Here, let me walk you to your dorm, and I'll pick you up there about seven?" He said, reaching up and itching behind his ear – she laughed a little, "What?"

"Nothing," She suppressed it, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, "Sounds great."

"Good," He said, with a little smile, as they paused outside what he had to assume was her dorm, "I'll see you then."

He went right back to the hotel after that, to try and do a little bit of research about the area, and dodge questions from f research about the area, and dodge questions from Cyrus about where he had disappeared to. Fitz had told him vaguely when he was walking to his room that he had seen an old friend, because that's what he had done, right? He hated lying, and he was bad at it too. Everyone could always tell when he was. His father had told him on more than one occasion that it was going to get him into trouble – that he should rethink being a politician. That he wouldn't make it without being able to lie, but that's why he had his father, and Cyrus. They lied for him, all he had to do was be their puppet. He shook the thought out of his head, and went to his bag to try and find something that would be casual enough to bring her out in. He hadn't brought much with him, but was able to scramble up a new dark pair of jeans and a sweater.

He hopped into the shower, and was rethinking the whole thing. What the hell was he doing? He was thinking of it as a date, but would she? They had developed an odd sort of relationship over the years, and how could he be certain that he had seen in her eyes what he had thought he'd seen? It was what head hoped to see, no denying it. Once he had seen her sitting there, so beautiful, so smart, so – perfect. She was perfect, and she was twenty – tops. He had just turned thirty-two. Who the hell was he kidding? Sure he had picked up girls about that age at bars – and recently, but she wasn't like that. She was Olivia, and he was an idiot. Had he pushed her into this? Had he given her an out? Was she just being polite?

He hoped that she wasn't. Nevertheless, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself of what he had seen in her eyes when he had asked her what she was doing that night, his nerves stayed at a racking plateau right up until he was pulling up his car outside her dorm, which is where he took a deep breath in a vain attempt to rain them back in. His brain was going a mile a minute, and he couldn't imagine a way that this was going to end up ok. Especially once Cyrus and or his father realized what was happening. He took a deep breath, and looked at the clock he didn't have her number yet, and he wasn't about to be late. If she was going to show up, he wasn't going to keep her waiting. He stepped out of the car, and tried to put on a fascade of confidence as he walked up to the door, to wait for her in the lobby of the building. This was all wrong, he was going to look like an idiot just waiting there for her – there was no way she was going to show – right?

His mind just kept going, he was an idiot. Olivia was far too lady like to tell him that she didn't want to see him to his face, she was just going to ditch him right here – or worse. Worse, she wasn't even considering him, she was thinking this was just the next step in being friends. So this was the friend-zone, he now understood why everyone said it was so painful and way it sucked so bad – Then all of it stopped, rather abruptly.

It all stopped about as quickly as an elevator door could open, and someone could step out of it. Olivia stepped out of it, and she looked so fantastically beautiful. While he was a little partial to the glasses she had been wearing that afternoon – she had put in her contacts. Her hair was curled to drape around her face almost like picture, and she had changed. She wasn't in her library garb anymore, but a skirt, showing off a type of leg that he hadn't even been sure could exist outside of plastic packaging and airbrushed magazines. He took a deep breath, and found that he couldn't. But then there were those eyes, they were the same, sad, and beautiful – they matched his, and they calmed him down in the few steps that it took for him to reach her.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: And then, I just couldn't stop writing for this story….Thanks for all of the reviews guys! Enjoy. :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Three

"Liv, what the hell's going on?" Her roommate and long time friend from Andover, Abby Whelan, stood in the doorway to their dorm room.

It was a legitimate question, Olivia would have asked the same thing. Though, probably not so eloquently if she had walked into such a mess of clothing, and body cream, and anything else she had thought of even for a second. The entire contents of her closet, which was probably about half of what you would buy at a store, if you bought the whole thing, and a portion of Abby's were around the room in heaps and unorganized piles all over the room. Her bed was covered, and there were a few sweaters strewn across Abby's bed as well. She wouldn't even be entirely sure where her desk ended anymore if she hadn't emptied her entire rack of shoes onto it. It had been a frenzied experience once she had gotten up to her room. She had managed to keep her composure as she walked with him across campus, casually looking over her shoulder to make sure that it was all still real, and trying to play it off cool. Calm. Collected. Then she had destroyed the room, and now she was laying on top of her bed, on top of her clothes in her towel, fresh from the shower – because she had had enough sense to realize that she needed one of those, and if she wanted her hair to look right, she had to do it right away.

"He's here."

"What?" Abby asked, edging into the room, and closing the door behind her – watching Liv like she was trying to remember the number for counseling services, "Who's here, Liv?"

"Fitz."

There was a pause in the conversation, where Abby looked genuinely and completely surprised. She had only really told her about Fitz once, maybe twice and it had been when they were much younger. Much, much younger than they were now. She understood that it took her a minute to realize what she was talking about and who she was referring to.

"Seriously?" Abby asked, her eyebrows shot up, then she teased her a little, "He's _here_? _Him_?"

"Abby, I don't have time for you to..."

"No, so what's up with the room?" She gave a kind smile, then chuckled a little bit, "Natural reaction is to just explode?"

"He asked if he could take me to dinner. I thought it was a date – but now I'm thinking it's probably not."

"He asked you out? To dinner?"

"Technically."

"Were you even able to respond?" Abby sank down to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I think so," Olivia said, and Abby chuckled, "He said he was going to pick me up at seven when he dropped me off here."

Abby checked her watch.

"We have exactly an hour and twenty minutes," She said in a 'Challenge Accepted' tone, Olivia didn't move, "We can do this. We need some music, all your hair products, your makeup bag, that skirt you got last weekend…"

**January 13, 1991**

Olivia was lying on top of the covers on her bed, for weeks she hadn't had the energy or the simple drive to even pull the comforter down and get under the covers. Two weeks, it had been two weeks. She could remember that, even if it felt like so much longer. She hadn't moved, she hadn't been to school, either. Not since that afternoon when she came home and her father was sitting on the couch – watching the news. She hadn't left her room since, only to go to the funeral, but there was no body. It was an empty casket that her father stood next to her while they buried. None of the bodies had been recovered, they had burnt up when the plane went down, and their ashes were floating somewhere in the Atlantic. Tears started to fall again, the already soaked layer of blanket was stuck to her cheek – but she didn't care enough to detach it as more tears just joined the puddle that she was lying in.

She had never in her admittedly sheltered, sadly boringly suburban life ever thought that she would ever feel this alone. One of her friends had come to see her once, to bring her some schoolwork, and to see if she could talk to her –but she didn't come again. Olivia hadn't really ever had a whole lot of friends, she was much too much concerned with the goings on in books, and always had her headphones on which isolated her. Of course, that didn't really matter all that much, when she was at school she was forced to be amongst her peers, forced to be mocked on the playground because she liked to learn, and liked to know things. That's where the headphones had come in. But when she got home it was different, when it was just her and her mom. That's what she needed, she needed her mom, but her mom wasn't there anymore.

Her father had walked in a couple times, like he wanted to say something, but he couldn't – or wouldn't – or didn't know what to say. When she didn't get up for school, he started dropping her homework by her bed, where it was still piled, and it had gotten to be a higher pile every day until he walked in and told her that he had pulled her from her private school near D.C. that she was going to boarding school, that she was to start that next Monday. She had a few more days to get herself together, and he put a peanut butter sandwich on her nightstand. She hated peanut butter – so she was wondering what he wanted when he patiently waited outside the door for her to finish crying before he walked into the room and set a dress, protected by a bag on top of her bureau.

"We're having a party at the Smithsonian tonight," He said simply, "I want you to come with me. You can't lay on that bed forever, only getting up to go to the bathroom, and only eating what is necessary to keep you alive. You're going to come to this party with me tonight, and tomorrow you're going to start packing for boarding school. Am I clear, Olivia?"

"Yes, sir," She replied, and it didn't even sound like her.

"Good, you should get up and take a shower. We're leaving in an hour or so."

She had to admit as she sat up and stretched that she was curious about going to a work function with her father. For as long as she could remember he had kept them – meaning her and her mother – completely out of it. He left in the morning, and came home for dinner – unless he had a business trip of a Gala opening. To Olivia growing up, it had all sounded so grand and fabulous, and so enriched in history. However, as she got a little older she started to realize just how strange it was that she had never gone in with him, most of the other girls in her class had gone to work with dad, or had them come in for a career day. It wasn't until she began to be conscious of her mother fighting with him about it that she started to wonder really what it was that he did all day. She could remember her mother asking about Christmas parties, and outings, and if she could bring him lunch a day that week. Once she got old enough to understand that not being able to do that sort of stuff for your husband must have stung a little bit – to have him literally tell you not too –

"Olivia! I don't hear the shower running!"

She got up and didn't really have much time to think about her parents past arguments as she wiped the stale tears from her cheek and headed into the bathroom. She took a deep breath as the water washed over her, and then got out, going to the counter where her mother's combs and things were still out on the counter – she had seen her do it a million times. She looked towards the door for a second, then shut it, and went for them.

"My, my, you look pretty," Her father commented as she walked down the stairs and into the living room, "Your mother teach you to do that?"

"Once or twice," She replied, and he nodded – end of the conversation.

"It took a bit, huh?" He said, not unkindly as he looked at his watch, "C'mon, I don't want to be late."

If Olivia had thought that she was lonely lying on her bed at home, then she didn't even know what to call sitting at a table in a room full of people who didn't even seem to see her trying to read a book that she had already read. Twice. She took a deep breath, and looked around. The dinner was done, and her father was about to give some sort of speech. She was still, desperately, trying to understand why her father was so insistent on her coming. He had left her alone a lot in the past two weeks, so why hadn't he at least given her the option? She looked around for someone who had been sitting with them – and no one was in sight. Then, the lights dimmed and it seemed like everyone just sat down in the nearest seat.

She was now not only alone, but surrounded by strangers she hadn't even ever been introduced to. She sighed as she ignored her father's words – with a little thrill, how could he ever know? And flipped to her favorite portion of her book. It was a passage she knew well, had memorized, and the page was marked not by anything but the wearing of the binding, so it almost always flipped right open to it. She stuck her nose into her book, and eventually the lights turned back on, and the strangers were gone. She took a deep breath, and got up. If she had to be here, she was going to have as many of those little cubic finger cakes as possible.

"Excuse me," Her voice wasn't really accustomed to speaking normally, so it came out quite – but the man standing between her and the buffet desert table heard her.

"Is there something I can help you with, miss?" The man asked politely as he turned around, and she looked up at him.

He was tall, dressed in Navy Uniform with cords around his arm. He had attempted to comb his hair to the side, but it was so curly that it didn't seem to want to behave. She understood that. There was also this look in his eyes, it wasn't one that she quite recognized an adult ever having. His eyes were a gray blue – probably the prettiest she had ever seen a person have, his jaw on edge, like he was grinding his teeth to keep himself from doing something else. Like he was trying to keep himself busy. He looked scared, like at any moment he was going to be pulled aside and yelled at, or brought out of the ballroom by someone who was going to get him in trouble. He was handsome, like someone out of a movie.

"If you could just step aside, I want to get a drink," She said, trying not to bother him, he was clearly thinking about something – it was best if she just got her little cakes and disappeared.

He stepped aside just as she asked, and she stepped up to the table, putting her book down only momentarily so that she could grab a plate. She grabbed the little baby salad tongs and started to pile a few, ok more than a few, onto her plate. She had a feeling that there was going to be no way to convince her father to leave early. She had to live it up a little bit before he sent her away. She filled a cup with some juice, and then started to try to load her arms up to make her way back to her table.

"Can I help you?" She heard his voice again, after she had assumed he'd walked away.

"No, I've got it," Olivia replied dismissively as she nearly fumbled her book, and her punch.

"Are you sure?" He asked kindly, and she looked up at him for a second, "I'd hate to see you spill your drink all over your book."

"Fine," She said, looking down at her hands and realizing that there was no possible way that she was going to be able to pull it off.

"Here," He took her plate for her, holding it out like a waiter, which was almost comical, "Where are you sitting?"

"Right over here."

"What's your name?"

"Olivia," She answered him nervously, like he was drilling her with questions, "Olivia Carolyn Pope. What's yours?"

"Fitz."

"Oh," She replied awkwardly.

"So what're you reading?" He asked her as she tried to navigate the crowd, leading him through it to her lonely, abandoned table.

"Bridge to Terabithia," She answered quickly, because there was no way that he actually cared – he was just being polite.

"Is that for school?"

"No," She said, the n realized that it wasn't entirely the truth, "Well, it was – I finished reading it weeks ago. It was for my old school, we got to pick a book for a report – my mom suggested I read it."

"And you liked it so much you carry it with you?"

He was going to think that she was a freak.

"Kind of," She said, sitting down at the table, and he started to go away and suddenly, she didn't want him to.

She was getting tired of being alone, and Fitz seemed – well, he seemed lonely too. Like he didn't want to be there, or even around people either. The only problem was, when you felt like being lonely, and there were a bunch of people around it almost seemed like it wasn't your choice anymore. Like you're some sort of outcast at a birthday party that was only invited because somebody was told that they had to invite everyone in the class. It made it so much worse because you felt like no one wanted to hang out with you, instead of you isolating yourself away. But she was no stranger to that. There was just something about him though – something,easy – it was easy to have him around. It wasn't all that hard to talk to him. Things were just kind of falling out of her mouth.

"Where are you going? You can sit down if you want."

"Sure," He said it like he really didn't mind sitting with her, "What do you mean kind of?"

He sat down, a seat away from her. Good, that might have been too much.

"Well, I just like having it with me. It's a good story."

"It is," He agreed like he'd read it, "Where is your mother? You're all alone?"

"I'm with my dad," She told him, and Fitz nodded, "My mom – "

"Yeah?" He asked for more when she broke off, like he actually cared what she had to say.

"My mom died a couple of weeks ago," She said, for the first time out loud.

"I'm sorry about that," Fitz told her quietly, his face shadowing over like it had been threatening to since she asked him to move.

"I like to carry the book around."

"My dog died when I was ten, I carried his collar around with me for years," Fitz told her, and she didn't really see the correlation.

A dog's collar? For years?

"That's stupid," She replied simply,and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah," He admitted, and a smiled cracked through his sad features, "But it helped."

"I don't want to carry this book around," She replied, at least not for years, not like that – it seemed a little too sad, "I just miss her, you know?"

"Have you tried to talk to your dad about it?"

No. She hadn't. Her dad had never been one for 'feelings' which had always struck her as strange considering how loving and emotional her mother got. But no, she hadn't talked to anyone about it, except for him – just now. She hadn't felt safe to. Unless her father mentioned her – barely – in passing, any other mention of her and Olivia was almost sure her father would end up breaking whatever he happened to be holding at the time.

"He doesn't know what he's doing," Olivia said, not really in the moment, "He wasn't ever – "

"Say no more – sounds a little like my dad," Fitz nodded, and she smiled.

There was a silent pause after she did so, and it started to fade from her face as she registered the panicked look on his face. Had she scared him off with a little too much cheerfulness? She could understand the concept, when her grandmother had come to visit right after her mother died, she was trying to hard to make her happy again that it just didn't work. It had the opposite effect, it had made her want to spend as little time with her grandmother as possible.

"Where are you going?" She asked him as he got up and was starting to edge away.

"I have a couple of people I still have to talk to," He said, his voice sounded weird – sadder than it had when he was talking, "It was very nice to meet you, Olivia."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Ok, I promise you all the date's in this chapter… and I warned you it was going to be a little slow getting going… but there is a brief amount of fluff on the horizon ;) So, enjoy the chapter and if you do, leave me a note at the end :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Four

**March 17, 1996**

"Olivia, do try and stay awake," Her teacher, Mr. Karter told her as he drove the car from the airport.

Michael, a rather annoying boy from her school was the only other student that had been 'requested' to go along with him to this ridiculous young leaders' conference. She had become much more adept to social situations, mostly not necessarily by her own choice, since before she was sent off to boarding schools. She now understood even the little bit of stigma she was going to get when she got back, having gone on a scholar trip with the nerdy professor, and the dork. She took a deep breath as she pulled the side of her face off the window, and tried to hold it up high, but she just didn't have the energy to. She had spent most of the night before on the phone with her father – who had been yelling at her for not wanting to go. For not wanting, and therefore not taking the opportunities hat he worked so hard so that she could have.

"Sorry, Mr. Karter," Olivia said a little sheepishly as she peered over the back of Michael's chair.

"Not a problem," He said kindly, it wasn't like he was the worst person she had ever met- just irritating some times, "I just would have thought that you would have slept on the flight."

Ordinarily, if Mr. Karter hadn't been fully aware that she hadn't really wanted to go, she had a feeling that he would have been a little bit harsher on her. She was thankful that he wasn't though, and did her best to try and stay awake for the rest of the car ride to the school that was hosting them. The last thing that she would have volunteered for was a weekend long conference all the way across the country for 'Young Leaders'. Didn't the makers of this conference realize just how contradictory something like this was? Politics, on all levels – no matter if you were running for class senate or President of The United States was first and foremost a popularity contest. The game was getting the people in behind him, or sneaking someone actually intelligent onto the ballot – getting to the point where you make the nerd popular. She already knew that, she had known that.

"Here's your room assignment," Mr. Karter handed her her dorm room key, "Be sure to be down here in the Lobby in twenty minutes so we can head over to the auditorium together. Do you have your cellphone?"

"Yes," She said, patting her backpack, and heading off.

Within an hour and a half it was about nine'o'clock – the second time for her, with the time difference – and she was sitting somewhere between the dorks who were in the right place, and the preppy kids who's daddies ran the world while they went shopping. The bad part was, she didn't really even know which side she belonged on, not really. She looked around as they were waiting for the first speaker to come in and get this parade started. She was looking around the room, her unopened, unread, and uncared about as she spotted a polo wearing Lax Bro watching her from across the room. A sketchy look in his eye. She looked directly back to the stage, where the first speaker was walking out to the podium.

No way. She recognized the speaker as he walked out, he was tall, and handsome. It was Fitz, who had floated in and out of her dreams since the day that they had met, five years ago. She couldn't understand why he was to here half the time, why when she was stressed out, and definitely not ok – he was there. He was standing on the edge ofe a dream in his dress blues, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop in whatever the situation was. Like he was waiting in the distance to comfort her, to take care of her – to be there for her, always. She shook her head because inside there, he was her prince charming from the ball, only she hadn't lost her shoe, and they hadn't danced. But he had been there for her – in a way no one else was - whether he knew just how much that night had meant to her or not. Though, she assumed the latter was the case. But he wasn't her prince charming, no matter if she happened to dream occasionally that he would show up and fix everything. He couldn't no one could. She took a deep breath as he cleared his throat.

She put the pen she had been planning to use to doodle all over the program while she didn't listen to a word any of the speakers said. There was a uncontrollable feeling that she would be listening quite intently to at least the first speech, and she did. She was hanging on just about every word that came out of his mouth, imagining his gorgeous blue eyes as she did so. About halfway through, he nearly changed topics completely – which meant that he was probably losing the interest of everyone around her. This snapped her back into reality, and she looked around - making sure that no one had realized that she was paying so much attention to him. After that, she leaned back and tried to look like she was just sort of casually listening, and paying about the same attention as everyone else. She opened up the program and looked at his name 'Congressman Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III'.

Fitz. He had introduced himself to her as Fitz – sure, he probably wasn't a congressman then, but she had been a kid. Who introduced themselves as less important sounding than they actually were? Very few. The diamonds in the ruff, who prefer it that way. Like her.

After Fitz was done, two of the most boring speakers on the face of the earth were up. She was beginning to think that it was a requirement in order to be considered as a speaker for the conference. Though, she tried to entertain herself by trying to figure out where Fitz was sitting, with no luck. She took a deep breath just as they were about to switch to the next speaker, and knew that there was absolutely no way she was going to be able to stay in her seat and not want to shoot herself in the head. But, in the absence of a gun, she would have had to use Michael's pencil. This wouldn't have really been the best decision, because Michael being Michael had been scribbling down notes ever since the speeches had started, so it was probably dull. It wouldn't be quick, or painless. Instead, she decided to excuse herself to go to the bathroom.

She walked out into the lobby, and looked out the window at the campus.

"Pretty, huh?" She turned around and spotted Lacrosse Boy from before had walked up behind her, "So, what school are you here with?"

"Andover," She answered as she looked around him, looking for her escape route.

"Ah, I'm at Groton," He replied, with a charming little smug smile as Fitz walked out of the auditorium – freedom, safety, "So there's this party in my buddy's room tonight, it should be quite a bit of fun…"

"Yeah?" She replied, trying to seem interested, "Well, I've just got to speak with someone really quick."

She brushed by him and headed over, following Fitz for a second before speaking up.

"Great speech," She said, somewhat nervously trying to get his attention, and he turned around "Only you messed up part of it, didn't you?"

"How did you know that?" He asked, that charming smile that haunted her dreams flashing across his face.

"It was easy, you shifted and gave a little pause before going into something that – no offence, was entertaining, but

no where near the point you were trying to make," She said, trying to keep the conversation going, of right now Lacrosse Boy was still hanging around by the window, "Don't worry, even the best speech makers make the same mistake. They're realizing their audience is falling asleep, and they adjust to try and make a small anecdote of interest, and usually – like in your case – it works because ninety percent of the audience couldn't tell you what you were talking about before that, anyways."

"And how did you get to be such an expert, Olivia?"

Holy shit. He remembered her name? Seriously? Suddenly the boy waiting by the window was the last thing on her mind, and all she wanted to do was keep the conversation going, for her own reasons.

"I'm studying speech making in particular this semester," She told him – like he was supposed to care,"I figure it will help with my closing arguments."

"You want to be a lawyer," He called it, when her father, and her best friends hadn't even been able to put two and two together, "I'd say you're definitely on the right track. But what are you doing here?"

"I'm going to Andover," She replied, "One of the teachers there, my legal studies teacher could pick a couple of us – and I didn't really have the choice."

"Andover's here?"

"Just a couple of us," She replied, somehow her nerves about talking to him were gone.

"Let me guess, your dad made you come?" He teased her.

"I wanted to stay behind and work on a project for my Speech class," She replied, letting out her breath, which she didn't realize she had been restricting, "How'd you know?"

"My father would have done the same," He replied kindly, and she couldn't help but smile at him – a real smile.

"Well, Congrats," She replied, wondering if he knew he was looking at her the way he was – or if she was imagining it, God what was she saying. Pull it together, "On congressman, you're going to do really well."

"Am I?" He asked, God he was adorable when he questioned himself, "I thought I completely just –"

"Threw out your speech in the middle of a point you were trying to make and pulled the rest of it out of your ass while you were up there?" She filled in for him, like she knew him well enough to speak so bluntly with him – but he didn't bat an eyelash, "Yeah, I know. That's why you're going to be great. They completely ate it up in there – ninety five percent of a good speech is just knowing your audience, Fitz."

"Right," He said, like he didn't realize that was exactly what she was doing now.

"I'm sure I'll see you around," She said quickly, once she realized she had nothing more intelligent and impressive to

say, "I should be getting back."

**December 20, 1999**

Olivia was shaking as she stood in the elevator, though luckily she was all alone inside of it, so she wasn't going to have to worry about anyone noticing. Well, that was until she appeared in the lobby, where there were always people, and without any degree of certainty – Fitz. That was if he had showed up. Well, she wasn't really concerned about him showing up as much as she was worried he would see her, realize what he had done, and go sprinting in the other direction as fast as he could. Either that, or by the way that she was dressed, the way that Abby had insisted she dress, classy, but not exactly something she would wear around campus, or anywhere else, he would realize that she was in the mindset that they were going out on a date. Then, obviously he would feel the need to go talk to her about how he liked her, but not 'like that' and she wasn't entirely sure she could handle that straight out.

She watched the numbers count down in the elevator, slowly losing what little function, logic, and sane thought her brain still had. That was until she reached the Lobby with a little 'ding' and the doors had no excuse but to open. She stepped out, and looked over to the lobby area in front of the check-in desk and saw him just as he started walking over to her. He had already seen her, so there was no running away now. He was in nice jeans, they fit him perfectly – and she wondered if they were part of his campaign attire, with a sweater layered seemingly on top of a collared shirt. They combined were just tight enough that she could faintly see the lines of definition to his chest, then – he locked eyes with her.

"Hi," His voice sounded hesitant, or nervous, or – like he had been holding his breath, maybe surprised.

"Hi," She said carefully, trying to read him right up to the point where he smiled and offered her his arm.

"You look great," He complimented her as she started to feel a little more at ease, and they headed out of the building – she assumed in the direction of his car, "C'mon, let's go get some dinner. Do you have any favorites around here?"

"Not really," She shrugged.

"Well, I looked around a little bit on my way to and from the hotel," He said, "Have you ever been to – ah – Christo's?"

"Yeah."

"Any good?"

"It's delicious," She replied, and he nodded quick, "It's usually pretty quiet, too."

"Alright, we'll go there then," He said fairly confidently, then seemed to lose it quickly, adding in about as quickly as he could speak, "Unless you wanna go somewhere else."

"No, it's good," She told him, laughing a little on the inside – so he was nervous too.

All that was to be determined was whether it was good nervous or bad, 'what the hell was I thinking?', nervous. He pulled his keys out of his far pocket and hit the unlock button, which caused a little black Ferrari's headlights flashed and it beeped quickly. He dropped her arm so that they could walk around to the doors, and he popped her's open from the inside, where he was starting it up while she put on her seat belt. He drove much differently, much safer than the Ferrari would have her believe he drove normally across campus, and then a little ways off of it until they got to Christie's which was much more of a townie restaurant than a college one. Though, it was lackingin college appeal – they didn't deliver at one in the morning.

"After you," He said as he opened the door for her, and she stepped inside.

They were seated almost right away, and suddenly she was trying to remember all of those ridiculous etiquette rules they thought prevalent to teach them at Andover. Wait. They were at a restaurant that was half bar, and she was trying to remember which fork she was going to be using for her salad? She took a deep breath, and tried to calm down. He was nervous too, remember? Everything was going to be fine. The only problem was, 'fine' wasn't going to cut it. She didn't want him to disappear for another three to five years only to show up even more perfect than he was now. And, looking across the table at him as he was starting to look over his menu, she couldn't handle that. She couldn't handle giving him any more time to become anymore perfect. The deficit between them for that scale would get too big – not that it wasn't large enough to start with.

"So, what're you planning on doing for Christmas?" He asked her casually, as he put his menu down.

"I'm just planning on hanging around here," She replied, and his eyebrows went up.

"You're not going home? What about your family?"

"It's just my dad."

"Is he still in D.C?" Fitz asked as the waiter brought their drinks, and they paused to give him their orders.

"Yeah, he's still in D.C.," Olivia said, "I just wasn't planning on going home, finals were done for me yesterday. I don't know – he was never really a family, holiday guy. Not even when mom was alive. But he called me two days ago and said he was going to be working anyway."

"Finals were done yesterday?" He asked, then gave her a mischievous smile, "So what were you studying during my speech? Or was that just a clever way to try and blow me off?"

"I'm studying for the LSAT," She told him, not wanting to think she wanted to blow him off, "It wasn't anything like that."

"Good. When're you taking them?" He asked her.

"December thirty-first," She replied, "No use ruining two holidays prepping and worrying about it."

"You're graduating in the spring then?"

"No, not 'til next year," She replied, "I just want to get them out of the way, while I have time. I'm doing an internship in the fall. I wouldn't be able to focus enough on them."

"Smart," He said, but it sounded more like he was talking to himself.

"So, how's the life of a wannabe senator?"

"Wannabe?"

"You're not elected yet," She pointed out, and he smirked a little as the waiter came and delivered their food.

"Can't fight you there," He replied, picking up his fork, "It's all right, it'll calm down after the election."

"That sounds like you don't care whether you win or lose."

"You're not quite aware of how good a politician I am."

The dinner went on without any sort of awkward pauses in the conversation, and she actually was starting to get to the point where she felt comfortable just chatting about whatever came up in conversation. That had to be a first, on a date, or in any sort of arena. Her awkwardness and straightforwardness that she had had as a child had never really gone away, she had just learned how to mask it, which meant that she was always very careful about what she was choosing to say. Before she knew it, they were back in his car, and they were pulling back into the parking lot near her dorm.

"So, I have a little dilemma," He said as he shut the car off, and they got out – but he leaned on his arm on the roof of the car, looking over at her by way of streetlight, "I don't want to walk you back yet."

"We could go for a walk, I do that sometimes," She offered up, "The campus is pretty peaceful at night – and now most everyone's gone home, so…"

"Ok," He said, as he walked around the car and offered her his hand.

She started walking onto her path that she had just sort of worn into when she was stressed out, or thinking about other things late at night. Like tonight, where any fear about the LSATs or her father, or anything had been completely erased from her mind and she was thinking about how warm Fitz's hand felt around her's. How little it made her feel – in a good way – that he was so tall, that his hand covered her's almost completely. She glanced down and could barely see her fingers where they were laced in with his.

"You're not even thinking about where you're going," He commented as she crossed the street at the corner and was heading towards the Quad.

"I have a pretty set trail," She told him, looking up where she knew his face was, "I tend to go for a walk, in a loop, around campus when I need a break."

"I go running," He said, and she chuckled, "No, I do."

"I can't picture you running," She said, when actually she could – and it was a very good mental picture to have.

"That's because I hate it," He replied, "But it gets me to think clearer – so it works. Cyrus – my campaign manager – it drives him nuts."

"Why would he care?"

"He cares about everything," Something in his voice told her that it was aggravating to him, and she squeezed his hand lightly.

"That sounds like hell."

"More like prison," He replied, trying to make a joke of it, "But whatever – I'm used to it."

"Yeah," She said lightly as he looked down at her.

"You're freezing, aren't you?"

"No – I'm fine," She tried to tell him, but her hand had already been dropped, and his sweater was already off.

"Here," He said.

"I'm really ok."

"Take it, Liv – I'm serious," He said, and she did - the voice, playful - yet charming was convincing, and it wasn't like she didn't want it.

They paused in the middle of the pathway they were on while he waited for her to put it on. She unzipped the collar down, until it stopped right where Fitz's chest would have started and she threw it on over her head. Fitz smiled a little, like he wasn't meaning to, or couldn't hold it in as she straightened it out.

"How's it look?" She asked, holding up her arms like she was in some show.

"Beautiful," He smiled, it came out taunting, but she got the very distinct feeling that wasn't how he meant it.

"So what's up next with your campaign tour?" She asked him, and he shrugged.

"It's on pause for the holidays," He said, "I get to go home."

"Home?"

"A nearly empty apartment in Santa Monica," He replied, and she nodded as she realized that they were already coming up again on her dorm, he seemed to realize it too, "I guess I can't delay you from studying any longer, eh?"

He looked down at his watch.

"Guess not."

"It's almost midnight," He said, and her eyes widened, "I didn't realize it was so late. Thank you, for coming out with me tonight."

"It was nice."

"It was – nice," He seemed a little more enthusiastic about it, and he took half a step back, "But I should go, let you get some sleep."

"Wait," She said, "What about your sweater?"

"I'll get it Sunday night," He said, to her surprise as he stepped forward again, kissing her forehead quickly, "Cyrus has me at some benefit tomorrow night. But I'm free Sunday night, and I would love to come up and see you again – if you'll let me."

"I think that might be possible," She feigned hard to get as he cleared a bit of her hair from her face, looking down into her eyes as she smiled up at him.

"I should hope so," He said, suddenly backing off and starting to walk away.

"Wait."

"Yes, Liv?" He asked, turning around and stopping about fifteen feet down the sidewalk.

"I don't even have your number or anything…"

"You do," He said, and she was instantly confused, "Right pocket. See you Sunday night."


	5. Chapter 5

What Could Have Been

Chapter Five

**December, 1999**

He was drumming on his steering wheel Tuesday afternoon, trying to work up the nerve to get out of his car and walk up to the door. Most of the students had in fact gone home for the holiday break, so the person who usually checked d that people lived there before letting them pass wasn't there. He knew this only because Sunday night had been particularly cold, and instead of a walk after the movie he had brought her to, she had offered up to head up to her room. Where they had sat on the futon in the middle of her room that she shared with a girl named Abby that he hadn't met, and talked for hours. Until she had settled her put a pillow on his lap, and put her head down on top of it, looking up at him as they continued to talk. He looked to the seat next to him, and then finally just picked up the flowers, and got out of the car. He had called her, with a pretty good outcome on Monday night – but he was scared. Scared that he was going to lose her if he didn't make a point of telling her how intensely he was thinking of her. How much he admired her, how much he thought about her, and how much he thought about what she was thinking, how hard he was trying, and how much he wanted to be with her – all the time. He couldn't – that would be crazy, wouldn't it? Except she was smart, and beautiful, and amazing – She blew him out of the water, and he wasn't even sure how it was that she seemed to be feeling the same way.

He walked up the steps to the dorm and waited a few minutes for one of the other students who had stayed to walk out. It was only about three'o'clock – he had told his mother that he would be at her house by five – he had plenty of time, he just had to make this pit stop. He summoned the elevator, and rode it right up to Olivia's floor. He was trying to make sure he wasn't going to get lost, and that he would be able to get through the maze of rooms to get to her's. He was pretty sure he could find it, but as he stepped off the elevator, with the flowers, he smiled. She was sitting in a chair by the window, text book in her lap, but she was looking out the window. He thought about calling out to her, but then smirked as he thought of a far, far better idea. He tucked the flowers behind his back, and crept up behind her. He dropped the flowers on her lap on her book, and kissed the side of her head.

She flipped around.

"Fitz?" She asked as she put the book on the coffee table, the flowers with them as she hopped up and gave him a hug.

"Hi," He said simply as she went to pull away, but he put his hand on the small of her back to keep her from getting too far.

"Hi," She said, and then she blinked, "What're you doing here? You're supposed to be on your way to your mom's, right? To spend tonight and tomorrow at her house with her?"

"I'm on my way," He said, unable to help himself as he reached out and started playing with a lock of her hair, "But, all I could think of was you sitting here alone and studying on Christmas, so I came to get you. You're coming with me."

"What?" She looked not so much confused, but more unsure of what he was saying.

"Liv, I want you to come with me to my mother's for Christmas," He said it slowly, so that she wouldn't miss anything, "I've thought about it, and I _really_ don't want to be away from you for three days. As unhealthy as that sounds, not right now. I might be ok once we've been dating for a while, but not right now. Right now, I just want to be with you as much as possible."

"Once we've been dating for a while?" She repeated, questioning him but again like he had just walked right in and started spouting nonsense.

"Well, that was the plan," He replied, realizing how ridiculous he had sounded, he could feel his face getting red.

There was a pause, in which he dropped his hand from her back – but she didn't move. He took a deep breath, wanting to tell her how much he loved the little spitfire she was. That he could always expect her to speak her mind, the way she was smart, but didn't really let that get in the way of being a human being. The way she would lock eyes with him, but then just when it was getting to a certain point, she would look away, and down. The way she self-deprecated herself like she didn't realize that she was quite possibly the most amazing person that he had ever met. He wanted to tell her that he didn't want to wait any longer – he wanted them to just be a thing. He wanted to drive out there and surprise her during the week – not because he liked the campus, or the idea of having a college-aged girlfriend – but because he wanted her, to see her smiling at him. That he wanted to come and get her for the weekends and bring her to his apartment, cook her dinner – show her off at things on the campaign trail. Have her figure next to him, no matter where he was. And, quite literally, take her home to meet his mom. As he looked into her eyes, he realized that he didn't really need to.

She put her hand up on his chest, and he looked down, a little surprised – but he liked the way that her tiny little hand fit right into the center of his chest. He was looking down at it when she went up on her tip-toes and caught him off guard with a kiss – if you could call it that. She reached up and pressed her full, hypnotizing, lips against his so quickly that he barely was able to register what was happening. As soon as it did, he wasn't all that proud to admit that he had to take a minute to regain control of his brain and extremities. Once he had, she was looking up at him, a little scared – he understood, he wasn't responding quite the way she was expecting him to, and she was about to say something. He could see it, an apology, a take-back, it was forming – and he couldn't let her do it.

He put his arm back around her, and pulled her up close to himself so that her face was nearly buried in his chest. He had to strain his neck down, and at a strange angle so that he could catch her slightly agape mouth with his. He set his lower lip firmly between her's, and just sort of kept it there, slowly moving it back and forth a millimeter across her lips. He hadn't even realized how tight he was holding her until she was trying to move – trying to put her arms around him, and he loosened up, his neck returning to a much more normal position as he collapsed back into an overstuffed chair, her falling into his lap.

"I'll be right back," She took a deep breath with a smile, most likely to restore her oxygen levels, as she got up, "Stay right there."

"Ok," He smiled up at her, not entirely sure he could move as she grabbed her book, "Where exactly are you expecting me to run off to?"

She didn't answer him, and left him out there in the common room with the flowers he had brought her, he assumed to scurry off into her room. He watched her go, and then stared up at the ceiling. He was in trouble, a whole mess of trouble with her. He had never been kissed like that, and for something so small to have such an effect on him, he could see where she would be dangerous to him. He had never, not once in his life, been able to rely on someone, never expected someone to love him, but there she was. He wanted her to love him, he wanted her to hold him for hours and not care or bother to complain. He felt that not only did this amazing person have the possibility of existing, but she was pushed right in front of him in the form of a drop dead beautiful woman, who was smart, and wasn't afraid of giving him a tongue lashing or two – or five. If he could manage to make her love him, somehow manage to see something in him – he had to. Because he was already at that point with her, wasn't he? It nuts, he had obviously been hit with something in his sleep, it had been four days – but had it really? He took a deep breath as she walked back out into the common room.

She had put on a pair of jeans that hugged her thighs, and he could only imagine what her ass looked like in them, and a medium cut sweater. His sweater that he had never bothered to collect was draped over her arm, her backpack on loaded up on her back, and she was wheeling a bag behind her. He smiled a little as she paused, looking at him like she was waiting for him to get up and go. He got up, taking the flowers off the coffee table, and handing them to her before stealing her backpack to sling it over his shoulder, and going for the handle to her bag.

"Fitz, I've got it," She told him, like she was trying to be patient with him, "My backpack, that's kind, and polite. But I can wheel a bag all by myself. I am not, and will never be any sort of damsel in distress, ok?"

"Believe me, I've got that down," He teased her as she handed him back the flowers so she would have a free hand, and took his, "You're good at fending for yourself, huh?"

"How far is your mom's?" She asked him as they got onto the elevator.

"It's about halfway back to my place," He said before he registered that she didn't really know where that was, "It's about a twenty minute drive from here. I was thinking it was going to take a little more convincing for you to come along."

"Ok," She said, like she was starting to get nervous.

"Relax," He said as he popped the trunk of his car so she could put her bag in – he had left the car right out in front of the building, "It's going to be fine, and fun. My mom's – quite the character. She's been waiting for me to bring a girl home a long time."

"How long is long?" She asked, as they got into the car.

"That's not a fair question," He replied, and she looked over at him in the dark, "What?"

"You brought it up."

"Probably not since high school, Prom or something like that."

"Ok, you don't really expect me to believe that bullshit," She replied, and he chuckled.

"I'm not bullshitting you," He replied, he knew better than that – especially so early on, "Seriously. My mother's very – old fashioned, and very emotional about things. I never really saw it as important for her to meet anyone – probably after my Senior prom date. When's the last time you brought someone home to meet your dad?"

His question came off more defensive than curious.

"Ha," She let out a fake, sarcastic laugh, "Never."

"Seriously?"

"I met with everyone at a friend's house for Prom," Olivia said, "He's never met anyone I've dated."

"Really?" Fitz was surprised, even though from what he gathered she didn't have the best relationship with her father.

"Maybe if mom was alive he would have," She said somewhat thoughtfully, "But if you haven't gotten the hint yet, my dad's not really the warm and fuzzy kind. I learned a long time ago that his expectations, and things weren't something that I really wanted to keep at the top of my priorities list."

"You'll have to give me a few pointers there," He replied, before he thought about what he was about to say.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing," He gave her a little smile as he reached for her hand over the armrest.

"Meaning it's not nothing, but you don't want to talk about it," She inferred out loud, and he nodded appreciatively, "I understand. If you don't mind, I think I'm going to catch a little nap on the way."

"Not at all."

He drove the rest of the way to his mother's with both hands on the wheel, and one eye on Liv. She had reclined her seat about as far back as it would go, and was just about curled up in the seat – which made him wonder just how tired she was when he had showed up to get her. It had only been the afternoon. He figured that she had gotten up early, or stayed up late the night before, and his brain seemed to drop it. She had been on the phone with him until about midnight, when he had gone to sleep – and he had assumed she had too. She must have stayed up and studied n'or read for a bit before going to sleep. She had told him that she usually couldn't go to sleep at night until she had read something, a few pages of a text book, a chapter in a book. Regardless, the way that she was sleeping in his front seat was almost too much for him.

"Livy," He reached over and put his hand on her shoulder as he put the car in park in his mother's driveway.

"Get away from me!" She screamed, still asleep as she jerked awake, throwing his hand off of her.

"Livy," He said, holding up his hands in surrender, and flipping on the light so that she could get acclimated easier, "Livy, it's ok. We're just here."

"Oh," She nearly gasped, breathing rapidly either to get herself calmed down, or to catch her breath, "Sorry – I had a nightmare."

"A nightmare?" He asked, and she nodded.

"I have those."

"Ok," He said, nodding, filing the information away for later, "Me too, sometimes."

"Really?" She asked, and he nodded.

"Usually I'm flying a plane or something," He said, knowing full well that it was most of the time.

"Is that what you did in the Navy?" She asked curiously, and he nodded, "Seriously? You're a pilot?"

"Yeah. I haven't flown, driven that is, since I was discharged, but…"

"Shut up," She said it like he was telling her this to impress her, he could have come up with something better.

"…What?"

"You were a pilot? In the Navy?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Nothing."

He let both eyebrows float up to his hairline, and waited. There were other follow up questions, or comments that she wanted to make – he could tell. He waited for a few more seconds before taking a deep breath, realizing that she really wasn't going to say anything else. He sighed, and leaned in and kissed her quickly, for good measure.

"We should get inside," He said, pulling away as quickly as he went in, "Now, I mentioned my mom's a tad traditional? What that means is if I'm not carrying your bags in, she's going to kick my ass. I will never hear the end of it, so please, let me carry all our stuff in? You get the flowers and your backpack, and I'll get everything else."

"Fine," She said, "As long as you show me your apartment at some point."

"I was planning on taking you there tomorrow," He replied, and she nodded as they turned and got out of the car.

He popped the trunk and grabbed the bag he had packed for himself, and dragged her suitcase thing behind him as they headed up to the door. She walked just in front of him, walking up onto the front of the wrap around porch, and stopping just before the door. He walked up and hit the button, not at all unaware of the unusual silence that had fallen over both of them, he stood her back up on it's wheels, balanced and reached for her hand, but she didn't give it to him. He put his hand back on the handle as his mother came to the door. She was sixty-two, but she didn't look it, she looked and acted much older. From what he gathered, she had always sort of been that way.

"Fitzgerald," She smiled as she opened the door, and she looked over at Olivia, "Come in, Come in. Both of you. Fitz – who's your friend?"

Fitz smiled, he had somewhat expected this, as she ushered Olivia in as if she were some old friend, and he was still struggling to get the bags in the door.

"I'm Olivia," She told her, not needing to wait for him to introduce her – he liked that.

"Olivia?" His mother smiled as he shut the storm door behind himself and finished bringing their bags into the room, "Fitzgerald, you've been seeing this girl?"

"Not for very long," He replied as walked over to where his mother had set Olivia down at the table.

"She's adorable," She fussed, and Fitz nodded

"I agree."

"How could you not tell me?"

"I wasn't sure she was going to come," Fitz said, sitting down next to Olivia at the table – she looked a little scared, but in a good, slightly overwhelmed, way.

"Honey, do you like tea?" His mother asked and Olivia went to open her mouth.

"It doesn't matter if you do or you don't," Fitz told Olivia under his breath as she put two cups in front of them.

"Hold on, I have honey and sugar in the cabinet in the dining room."

"What do I call her?" Olivia asked him quickly, as soon as she had left the room.

"Violet," Fitz replied as she came rushing back into the room.

"Is she like this all the time?"

Fitz shook his head.

"She's just excited."

"Olivia, darling, you have to tell me about yourself," She said as she set both sweeteners in front of them, with a plate of cookies, "What're you up to?"

"She's taking her LSATs next week," Fitz offered up.

"Oh, I remember when you took those," She said, exhaling anxiously, "That's not fun to talk about. What else? When did this happen?"

"Well, we've known each other – vaguely – for a while," Olivia was a little shaky speaking, and Fitz nodded to show support.

"It's only really been a very short time," Fitz spoke up, "I ran into her the other day, and took her out."

"Friday," Olivia was watching his mother like she was waiting for her to turn up her nose.

"Things work out in interesting ways," Was his mother's only response, but he was watching Olivia's face, "So you're studying to be a lawyer, but can I ask why you're not with your family for the holiday?"

Fitz was surprised he wasn't pulling a muscle in his arm as he dragged his hand across his neck, as frequently and quickly as he could – out of Olivia's view.

"I was going to study," Olivia said, "I didn't even know I was coming here until about a half an hour ago. Fitz showed up and said he didn't want me to be alone on Christmas."

"That's my boy," She said with a somewhat fond smile, "Well, I keep the guest room all set up, and Fitz will show you where it is while I get dinner started. Don't worry about your tea, I'll get you guys new ones when you come back down. No shenanigans, Fitzgerald."

"C'mon," He said, smiling as he spotted the huge grin on her face as he picked up their bags, and led her to the staircase, "Mom never got rid of my room – so I'll be in here."

He stopped and set his bag down just inside the first door.

"You'll be down the hall," He said, taking her hand as he led her the rest of the way down the hall, "You can knock on my door if you need anything."

He flipped the light on, and walked into the room, setting the bag down on the bed carefully, and turned back around. She was standing in the doorway, a faint smile still on her face.

"What's up?"

"Your mom's really sweet."

"She wasn't always, but she's been sober a while. Since she divorced my dad, actually."

"Thank you, for bringing me here," She walked the rest of the way into the room, and into his arms.

It was either he brought her there, or he bailed out early on his mother – which he wasn't going to do.

"No problem, Livy," He whispered, kissing the top of her head.

* * *

A/N: Ok, so I had fun creating Fitz's mom - he's got to have learned how to be a normal, caring human being from someone, right? Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and Fitz and Liv further getting to know each other... The story's going to be picking up a lot now, no more repeat conversations (at least for a while) :)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hello,a all… enjoy this on your Christmas Eve/Almost Christmas Eve… :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Six

**December, 1999**

She had watched from the kitchen while Fitz and his mother hung the stockings, and she laughed as his mother insisted on putting up one up for her, as well. Fitz helped her with it, and then went over and picked her up, carrying her into the living room to join them in 'Christmas-like' festivities. Which apparently included helping them put some of the ornaments on the tree, and then helping Fitz set up the card table. They proceeded to play a few rounds of Cribbage – which she had absolutely no idea how to play, so she just sat there with them while they attempted to teach her, and she was lumped in to play along with Fitz. After that she went to bed, promising to be a little more entertaining in the morning.

She liked Violet, she reminded her of her own mother, which was a little bit sad – but most of her memories of her own mother were now blurred together, and not entirely stable. Violet was sweet, and kind and very motherly, actually – she was exactly the type of mother that she would have imagined Fitz having, if she had thought of it. When she excused herself to go to bed, they had both given her a hug, and his mother had made her wait for a glass of water before she headed up. The house was so large that she was a little worried about getting lost, but she managed to find it ok. She knew that Fitz was going to be right down the hall, so she felt fairly comfortable in her surroundings.

She went into her room, and pulled one of her books out of her bag, climbing up onto the bed. She switched into the pajamas she had bought along, knowing that she was going to be staying with his mother – she went under the comforter and started to read. When she was almost finished, and her eyelids were starting to droop she heard a creek in the attic, and suddenly she started to feel a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something wasn't right – but she was probably just being paranoid - so she hopped out of bed. She wasn't going to be able to go to bed without going around the house to check. She was a nervous person, she knew that as she got out of bed, grabbed Fitz's present out of her bag, and very carefully edged out into the hall. It was an old house, so the floor boards creaked a little bit as she walked down the hall. She flipped on the light near the bathroom. That was when she spotted a picture of Fitz on the wall, all dressed up in his Navy uniform.

She looked behind herself at Fitz's door, hoping that she hadn't woken him up – no idea what time it was – and she headed down stairs She put his present under the tree, and then headed out into the kitchen. The clock above the oven told her it was almost one in the morning. She was about to turn around and go back upstairs, but she heard voices coming from the front porch. She paused to listen to what was going on. One of the voices was Fitz, which she could probably pick out anywhere – the other, she hadn't the slightest clue. It sounded older, that was her only real clue until she went up to the front door, and peeked out of a small window, trying not to be seen. This was an effort that she very quickly realized wasn't entirely needed as she realized that Fitz and the other man were arguing, and not really paying attention to anything else that was going on.

"…Just go…" She heard Fitz say, quite clearly, even with the muffle that the door so inconveniently provided.

"…I'm not going anywhere. You need to shape up, boy. I would never have spoken to my father the way that you do."

"Well, I'm not you, Dad, and I'm not ever going to be."

"If you want to make your mark in politics, you're not going to be able to do it by yourself. If you want to be a lowly congressman your whole life, keep going the way you're going. If you want to rise through the ranks - let Cyrus release those damn pictures of Kelley," He said, and Fitz shook his head, "C'mon, it'll be in the news on Christmas morning, Congressman Kelley's name in the news of him snorting cocaine with a couple prostitutes? There's no way he'll be able to recover from that."

"He's got kids, who'll be watching the news."

"Well, the sooner kids find out their parents aren't God, the better. You'll be doing those kids a favor."

"No," Fitz was trying to stay adamant, "I'm not going to resort to something like this to win a senate election."

"You'll never get further without it," He said, "Speaking of which, how are we doing on the girlfriend issue?"

Olivia's whole person went bolt upright, red flags popping up all over the place.

"What girlfriend issue?"

"You bit my head off the last time I asked you about it. A girl, Fitz. We need a good girl, good breeding, who'll look good on your arm."

"No, I haven't gotten one," He said, and Olivia's heart sank, "And I'm not going to. Just like I'm not going to let Cyrus use those pictures. Get the hell out of here, now, before I call the cops. And don't come back here – not to mom's place."

"You've been avoiding me for months – this was the only place I knew I could catch you," He said and Fitz rolled his eyes quite animatedly.

Olivia ducked to hide behind the door, confused, but very, very sure she didn't want Fitz to see her. She could feel herself starting to get upset, and she tried to stem it, stop it before she felt her eyes starting to well up with unwanted water. What? Was he really just dating her so that he could get ahead in the election? It had all been happening really quickly, the dates, the phone calls, the already meeting his mother. Was she getting sucked into a political thing without even realizing it? How could she be so stupid? She wasn't a civilian on this sort of stuff, she knew very well that there was a realm in present day where marriages were arranged, women with good 'pedigrees' were bought and sold by men in smoke rooms, and elections were bought and paid for. She took a deep breath, and was pushed forward as Fitz barged back in through the front door – apparently finished arguing with his father. She had fallen forward.

"Liv?" She could hear it in his voice that he was upset, as she pulled herself up off the floor, "Are you ok? I'm so sorry…What're you doing down here?"

"I'm fine," She picked herself up off the floor and brushed herself off, her arm hurt, "I was just heading back up to bed. I couldn't sleep."

"Wait, you heard all that? Didn't you?" He ran up and caught the arm she wasn't clutching, "Liv wait – I understand you getting upset…"

"Really?" She nearly screamed – whipping around at him, "You can 'understand' me getting upset?"

"Liv, I have absolutely no intentions of using you to do anything political," He said right away, "I assume that's where you started to hear – because that's just the way my life works. Listen, that wasn't what I was doing. Everything Cy, or my father does has a political, or power based reason behind it. I don't want to be like that – I never want to be like that, and Livy – you're way too important to me to ever use you for something as stupid as an election. Livy, you got to believe me. I don't even want you anywhere near any of my campaigns. I don't need you for that."

"Ok," She breathed, not sure why she was starting to believing him, maybe it was the tone his voice had taken, low, and nearly cracking.

"No, Livy – I really need you to believe me on this one," He said, "I was meaning to talk to you about it, anyway. Because I'm not going to be bringing you to any charity events, or putting you in any kind of spotlight. I'm not interesting in becoming the cover of some stupid tabloid. I want to be as normal as possible, with you."

"Fitz – "

"I know how bad this looks – "

"Fitz, why didn't you tell him about me?"

He paused.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want him to know about us yet, about you," He said, taking a deep breath, "Because, I've talked to you about him a little bit – but he's not a good guy. He's not the pushy dad that at the end of the day still has my best interests at heart, and is only trying to do the right thing. That's not him. The only thing that he cares about it himself, he's always been that way – and like I just said, everything he does is a political move – me included. I was to smile and toddle around at campaign events, and then continue the legacy. When I said I wasn't going to use you for anything like that – I'm not just going to stand by and let someone else do it 'for me'. That's why I didn't say anything, the longer he doesn't know about you…"

"You were protecting me," She filled in, and he just exhaled heavily, mostly through his nostrils.

"Yes," He said, quietly.

"Why was here?"

"He knew it would annoy me for him to show up here," Fitz said, "He's always been a trigger for mom to want to start drinking – and I think he thought if he should up like that I'd give him whatever he wanted to get him away from the house. He didn't realize mom was already asleep."

"Right," Olivia said, sitting down on the couch in the living room, realizing that the stocking his mother had hung for her was filled, "Did you do that?"

"I may have stopped for a few things before I went to get you," He walked over she sheepishly, and sat down next to her – like he was afraid to touch her, and she leaned over.

"Under the tree, mom made me take her out when you went upstairs," He said, and she chuckled.

"She didn't have to-"

"Of course she didn't," He chuckled, "It's just kind of how it goes."

"I didn't get her – "

"I added your name to something I got her," He said, and she nodded.

"Ok," She said, and he very carefully put his arms around her, she leaned back against his chest, "You're a good guy."

"Thanks," He said, he seemed a little off guard.

"What?" She asked, and he shook his head.

"Nothing," He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

She brought her feet up on the couch, so that she was basically lying down, fixing a pillow on his lap and turning on her side so that she was facing his abs. He had changed into a plain white t-shirt, and a zip-up hoodie on over it, like he had just grabbed it on the way out the door. She reached up and ran her hand through the side of his hair – letting his curls straighten out, then pulling her hand away so that they bounced back to his head. She took a deep breath as he slipped his sweatshirt off, and she realized how large his arms were. Well, she had known that he had a pretty good build, and worked out fairly regularly – she assumed he had gotten most of the muscle mass in the Navy, and just kept up with it from there.

"Livy, are you ok?"

"Yeah, I think I'm finally just getting tired enough to go to bed."

"I'll walk you up," He said casually as she rolled off the couch and offered him her hand as they headed upstairs.

After Fitz very sweetly, and rather adorably dropped her off just outside her door, she went right to sleep without any more difficulty. She actually slept in, for her, the next morning – at least that's what she realized when she woke up to someone knocking on the door. She rolled out of bed, and forced her hair out of her face as she went to open the door – where Fitz was standing, still in his own PJs.

"I figured I'd wake you up," He said, "Presents are in ten minutes – we eat breakfast while we open."

"Oh, ok," She said, and he wrapped his arm around her lower back.

"Merry Christmas, Livy," He said as he pulled away, and slipped his hand around her's, "C'mon."

"Wait, let me get dressed, and I'll be right down."

"You look fine," He said, and she furrowed her eyebrows, "It's a thing."

"…Ok."

They sat in the living room, and Olivia couldn't really remember the last time that she had sat with a family, of any kind, and opened presents on Christmas morning. She had a feeling it was the Christmas before her mother died – but she had a feeling that her father had tried to do something like that the year that she died, but she hadn't been in for it. After that she had sort of lost the Christmas spirit, not that she didn't enjoy the season, but it wasn't like she had a family. She had a grandmother, her father's mother – who was annoying, and self-centered, and always managed to speak poorly of her mother in some way, whenever she saw her. But this Christmas was nice, with Fitz and his mother. Olivia smiled and nodded and paid attention – knowing that, interestingly enough his mother was an awful lot like her own had been. At least how all of her memories depicted her.

"You ready to go?" Fitz asked her, it was getting to be the afternoon, and she had just returned from her shower – he had already gone and changed.

"We're going already?" She asked, looking up at him from where she was sitting on the couch.

"Yeah, mom's got her card game this afternoon with her friends," He said with a little smile, putting his hands on her shoulders from behind the couch.

"It dates back to when Fitzgerald had to go to his father's for the evening on Christmas," Violet said as she came down the stairs, an oversized purse over her shoulder.

"Which, thank God, I don't have to do anymore," Fitz said, and she chuckled.

"Oh, ok," Olivia said as Violet disappeared into the kitchen.

"Gives us time for me to show you my place?" He offered up a little apologetically, around she smiled.

"Of course," She said, as he walked around and helped her up off the couch.

"I'll just run up and get everything – bring it out to the car," He said, and Olivia nodded as he headed for the stairs, and Violet came back into the room.

"You're a good girl," She commented, and Olivia smiled, "And I say that because you're not just a good person – you're good for my son. He's never brought them home to meet me, but I watch the news and gossip channels. I know the types of girls that he's usually seen with. I don't ask him about them – because I know if they're important, he'll bring them home. You, honey – you're a bright, brilliant girl. He needs someone like you. And from what I see, you don't have a problem keeping him in line. You hold onto him for me, ok?"

"I'm planning on it," Olivia said, and Violet nodded with a sad sort of smile, "What's going on?"

"Nothing, it's just that Fitzgerald can sometimes be a little hard to love – when you get to that point. I'm not saying you do right now, but – he's very hard on himself. If and when something hard happens, he'll try and push you away. 'Protecting you', or he'll tell himself he's doing it for you – don't let him, ok?"

"I will try."

"Good," She said, blinking and Olivia thought she saw a moment of a tear.

"What else is going on, Violet?"

"Nothing, honey," She said, and Olivia gave her a look, letting her know that she wasn't letting anything slide by her.

"I don't believe that."

Violet laughed.

"And it's that sort of forwardness that Fitzgerald needs."

"Violet."

"I'm dying, honey," She said, and Olivia could feel everything in her start to morph into cement, "Liver Cancer, I have about six months. I haven't told him yet… I used to have a drinking problem, I guess some damage just can't be undone, huh? Please don't tell him. I'm not ready for him to know, and I don't think he is either."

"Ok," Olivia said, "Secret's safe with me."

"Good," Violet replied, slapping a smile up onto her face, "I'm glad he brought you."

"Ok," Fitz said, walking in, "Everything's in the car – Mom, I started yours for you, too."

"Thank you," She said, and Fitz nodded as he gave her a quick hug, "I'll see you in two weekends?"

"Sunday dinner, you've got it," He said, reaching for Olivia's hand.

"Bring this girl with you, ok?"

"I think I can manage that," Olivia said, and Violet smiled as they all walked out of the house together.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Hope everyone who celebrates it had a good Christmas, and if not then they had a good day anyway :) Enjoy!

What Could Have Been

Chapter Seven

**February, 2000**

Fitz was sitting, entirely bored out of his skull in a conference room, where Cyrus was standing at the front of the room, lecturing, while he and the rest of the campaign team were sitting by idly. It honestly reminded him of when Cyrus had been his professor in Law School, there was a similar feeling to sitting in a class room as he went over the numbers and outlined exactly why Karter was ahead of him by about five points, and would actually be pulling forward after the debate that they had planned for the following week. He had been prepping for that on his laptop, but he had bored of that a few minutes ago. He was now waiting for the clock to strike five, so that he could call the meeting adjourned, and escape for the weekend. He was leaving to get Olivia the minute the meeting was through, and he was bringing her back to stay with him for the weekend in his apartment. She had offered for him to stay at school with her, but he felt a little awkward spending the night in the dorm – even if her roommate wasn't going to be there.

"Not to interrupt you, Cy," Fitz said as soon as the bottom corner of his laptop told him it was ok, "But it's five, and people have to get on their way. Thank you, everyone we'll pick this up again Monday morning, the debate's not until Friday. Kathleen, make sure you email me those numbers before you leave for the weekend?"

"Yes, sir," She replied, and everyone filed out as Cyrus slumped his shoulders.

"Don't look so glum, Cyrus," Fitz asked as he got up, putting his sport jacket on, and fixing the buttons on the sleeves, "We can manage this."

"No, I don't think we can, Sir," Cyrus said, and Fitz paused, "Can we meet up tomorrow, or have a conference call or something to try and attempt to get you ready for the debate?"

"No, I'm going to be unavailable this weekend," Fitz said as he packed his computer away into his briefcase.

"That's the second weekend in a row."

"I'm a busy guy," Fitz said, with no intentions of telling him that he was planning on lounging around his apartment with Olivia, and then going to his mother's on Sunday – normal.

"There's a girl," Cyrus said, and Fitz furrowed his eyebrows, "At least tell me it's the same one."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Cy," Fitz said, and Cyrus rolled his eyes.

"It doesn't matter, your father might be concerned about your image in that department, but the addition of a girlfriend isn't really going to help it. You're a Grant, it's sort of expected of you," Cyrus said, and Fitz decided to ignore the obvious bait, "You're a pretty flyboy, to be honest I don't think anyone really cares what you do, and who you do it with. My problem is the fact that you're about to be able fifteen points behind Karter – and we have a get out of jail free card that could save us. It'd be a Hail Mary pass caught in the end zone in the last ten seconds of the game, sir. Your father…."

"Cyrus, who do you work for?" Fitz asked, and Cyrus's head popped up, "Because if I remember correctly, you work for me, not my father. This is my campaign, and I call the shots."

"She's given you a little bit of confidence, I see."

Fitz rolled his eyes, and looked at the numbers that were still up on the screen.

"How old are Karter's kids?"

"Fitz…"

"How. Old. Are. they?"

"They're six and ten, Sir," Cyrus finally just answered him.

"You release the photos in time for the eleven'o'clock news," Fitz said distinctively, "Tonight."

"Sir, if we wait until the day of the debate-"

"That's a dirty trick, Cy – and we both know it," Fitz said, "If we release them tonight, he has a chance to think about what he's going to do next. Politics is a chess game, Cy."

"Sir, I really think we should consult your –"

"Did you not hear me? Was I not speaking clearly enough for you? DO I STUTTER?" Fitz asked him, and Cyrus went quite – it wasn't often that Fitz got this riled up, "This is my campaign, not yours, and certainly not my father's. I'm running it the way that I want to. Tonight, or not at all. That will give him time to decide whether he wants to keep his family, apologize to them privately without making too much of a spectacle and his career. It'll give him time to think, but voting day's in a little over a week, he won't rebound from it politically. I have to go."

"You'd call it off if you had any time to really think about it," Cyrus inferred, and Fitz just took up his suitcase, "I'll call you tomorrow."

"I'm turning my phone off. I told you, I'm busy this weekend. Our camp is to not make a single comment about him. Leak them anonymously. I trust you remember how to do that. And I swear, if it gets back to this —"

"Understood, Sir. Congratulations."

"Don't patronize me, Cy."

The conversation echoed in his head as he walked down the hall, and didn't even really start to fade once he was waiting, standing outside Olivia's building for her to come down. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, his heart was racing and he felt like he had just killed someone or something. He wrung out his hands briefly, he didn't have the right to be anyone's senator, that wasn't how he wanted to win. He didn't want to win just because there didn't happen to be any pictures of him snorting cocaine with some, rather unsavory crowd. It hadn't happened, but that was only because he had been groomed, his whole life to be a politician. There was nothing in his history, and anything that had happened – it was wiped clean at that moment and time. There were no loose ends, and there was no way anything was going to come back and bite him in the ass. And there was a lot worse in his secret resume than snorting cocaine with a couple of prostitutes.

Olivia walked out the front door – and he tried desperately to try and cheer up a little bit. He saw himself standing on the edge of a cliff with this train of thought, and he couldn't let that happen. Olivia didn't deserve to be taking care of depressed him all weekend, not when he had promised her a happy weekend together – she had planned for that. He tried to start thinking about Olivia, and how well they were doing – how happy he was about how their relationship was going, and how he had still managed to keep her away from the campaign, and Cy and his father's clutches. She was freedom, and happiness. He had managed to see her two or three days a week on average when he wasn't traveling, which with her studies seemed just about right. That was when Karter and Cyrus and the photos seemed to take a step back in his brain.

"Is everything ok?" She asked – she didn't seem surprised that he seemed down, only kissed his cheek, and reached for his hand.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," He said, smiling as her hair blew little behind her as they walked, and he stroked his thumb over the back of her hand.

"Campaign's not going well," Olivia commented, and Fitz nodded.

"No," He said, shaking his head, "I wouldn't worry about it too much."

"You just came from a meeting with Cyrus, right?"

"Yeah," Fitz said as they climbed into the car.

"Hey, wait," She stopped him before he started to walk around the car.

"Yes, Livy?"

"You didn't kiss me," She didn't realize that she was pouting, and he went over to her, "What's going on with you – usually I have to stop you and make you walk to the car."

"I guess it'd be pretty predictable now, huh?" He said, taking her hand , and she smiled a little bit, "I'm sorry, I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Well, I have good news," She said, "I got my LSAT back, One-Seventy."

Fitz was seriously impressed, and then he could feel the smile take over the majority of his face.

"That's great," He said, everything else completely escaping his mind as he paused, then grinned as he stepped out and grabbed her, lifting her up into the air in a hug, then set her down, "You're going to law school – You're going wherever the hell you want for Law School."

"Yeah," She replied, clearly finding him amusing as he let it sink in – then it did, and he pulled her up to kiss her, "There it is."

"We have to celebrate," He said, taking both of her hands in his, "I was going to cook for you, because you were teasing me about the last meal, but I should take you out. Something nice, delicious – a feast. Let's go."

"Fitz... you don't have to…"

"I do," He said, leaning in and kissing her again, soft and slow, "My girl just aced a huge test. I'm taking you out."

"Ok," She started to chuckle as he unlocked the car.

"Let's go."

He brought her most of the way back to his apartment before he was acquainted with the area enough to know where to bring her. She was smiling, and happy, and that was enough for him as they sat a corner table, and had a celebratory dinner. It wasn't until much later that his conversation with Cyrus didn't even pop up in the back of his mind until he was lying in bed that night, waiting for Olivia to get out of her shower. He laid there in sweatpants and a t-shirt, on top of the covers. What the hell had he done? This wasn't him, how could he let his campaign go with something this backhanded? He could feel himself starting to get worked up.

"Fitz, what's the matter?" Olivia walked in his old Navy sweatshirt, and a pair of drawstring PJ pants that seemed to fit her perfectly.

"Nothing," He said, blinking, and trying to keep the thoughts from the front of his mind as she climbed up onto the bed with him and snuggling up.

Her head was on his chest, but she was look up at him. Studying his face.

"There's no point trying to hide anything from you, huh?" He said, and she shook her head.

"Not really."

"Just work, again," He said, and she gave him a weird look.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this upset about work before," She said, sighing as she ran her hand over his chest, in a circle, clearly trying to comfort him, "Are you sure it's work?"

"Yeah," He said, and she leaned up and kissed him quick – momentarily pausing him in time.

"Here, let's watch something to take your mind off of it," She said, reaching over him and grabbing the remote off of his nightstand.

He didn't really feel like watching anything, he'd much rather flip them over and start making out with her – maybe slip her under the sheets with him – but they hadn't gone that far. He had kissed her, and he had really kissed her, he had held her all night, loved the way that she felt pressed up against him. He loved to press his nose into her hair, smell her shampoo, the way that it fell over her head, especially curly like it was now. He smiled faintly as he buried it in this time, and she smiled lightly as he settled it in.

"You're cute, you know," She said as she was flipping through the channels.

"…_.In more interesting news, there was a picture leaked just a few minutes ago. It was sent into our studio exclusively of Senate hopeful Karter. The date of the photo is so far unknown, but I'm sure it will be determined soon. As you can see…" _

The whole screen was the picture of Karter that Cyrus had been sitting on for months, and he shrank down on the headboard that he was leaning against. He waiting for it to pass, but Olivia shut the TV off instead, and somehow – she knew. He let out a deep exhale, as she very slowly turned around to look at him.

"Fitz…?"

"I- I can't…" He said, and then he wasn't even sure what he was saying.

"Fitz," She said, her confused, and somewhat angry original face gone and replaced with sympathy, "What? I heard you tell your dad…"

"I did it," He said, "I had Cyrus do it. It was wrong, and I knew it was wrong, so I made it so I didn't have time to back out. I ruined him. Everything that he wanted, his family – probably."

"Fitz," Olivia said, she sounded worried, but something about hearing it out loud had put him in a daze, "Fitz, why are you in politics? You don't have the heart for it, you would be so much happier helping people in other ways. There's other ways to effect change. You're smart – you know that."

"It's complicated," He said it as if it were even that simple.

He had made a deal with the devil, that's what had happened. He imagined that was how most people got into deals with the Devil, they make a mistake they can't cover, they get in over their heads, and then some black knight rides in and offers them a plea deal. In his case, it was his father riding right in the money to cover his ass, and the ambition to force him into a career.

"But you don't even like this sort of stuff."

He nodded in agreement as she ran her hand back through his hair.

"I screwed up," He said, more introspectively than anything else.

"We all do terrible things," She said, which surprised him a little, sitting up on the headboard herself, "This is in the past, you finish this campaign with your head held high. California still needs a senator. If you feel responsible, you need to make it up in a way that's going to make a difference."

She was making excuses for him, he knew it. The worst thing about it was that he wanted to believe her.

"Liv…"

"Fitz, you made a tough decision," She said, "But that man, no matter what his family situation, was apparently in no shape to help run the state."

"It wasn't a tough decision, Cyrus got me going," Fitz said, "He knew that if he pushed the right buttons in just the right order, and I just told him to put them out there. I told him. I ruined Karter's life."

"Fitz, Karter ruined his own life," Olivia said rather harshly, "This picture existed, if your team hadn't found it, someone else would have. Then, it might have been a national election. He clearly has issues to work out."

That one was true. He took a deep breath.

"Fitz, it's part of the game," She said, "If you don't want to run your campaigns like that, don't. From now on, don't do it, make it so you don't have to.

"Ok," He said, and she took a deep breath, then leaned herself over him, kissing him softly.

"This doesn't change who you are, Fitz," She told him, stroking his hair off his forehead and out of his face, "You're not a monster. You're – amazing. Don't let this end up being who you are, because I'd hate to see that happen."

"It won't," The words sounded cold, even as he was thinking about them – determined.

"Ok, then it's handled," She said, as she reached for the remote again, "Do you want to watch something before we go to bed?"

"No," He replied, and she reached up and brushed the side of his face with her hand.

"Handsome, you're not allowed to be mopey all weekend," She informed him, and he couldn't help but smile a little, "As I've said before, your smile is way too good for you to stash it away all the time."

"I'm not mopey," He said, then was taken a little by surprise as she rolled over to lay on top of him.

"You're being a little too sad for the occasion," She teased him as she leaned up and kissed what was exposed of his collar bone under his t-shirt, "I might start to think you're not happy with me being here with you."

"You're lucky I know you're just trying to be cute to cheer me up," He teased her as he sat up a little from where he had slumped to, padding the back of his necklace with a pillow, "If I thought you actually believed that I might have to try and to prove to you just how wrong you are."

"Then you better stop thinking about work," She said as she sat up, now effectively straddling him.

"You know, that's starting to get a whole lot easier," He chuckled as he brought himself up - readjusting himself as he got high enough to steal a kiss.

"How about you lay back?" She asked, "I can help you feel better..."

"Livy," He said her name slowly, trying to figure out how to politely put it, doing as she requested anyway, "I don't want it to be like this. Believe me I've thought of little else, but I would never want it to be like that with you. When we do take us farther-"

"Fitz, stop." Olivia said, shaking her head at him, "That wasn't what I meant, because I agree. That's not doing anything other than what we have been isn't going to happen tonight. I was, however going to offer up a back rub because you're clearly so stressed out."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Maybe next weekend..."

"Yeah, before I flip around - I can't be with your next weekend."

"It's Valentine's Day next weekend."

"That's why I was hoping we could think of this weekend as Valentine's weekend. I have to be in Washington DC. I'm sorry, Livy."

He put his hands on the back of her thighs lightly, reminding her why she shouldn't just get up and walk away right then and there. And of course, never look back at her asshole boyfriend that couldn't even manage to get the Valentine's Day weekend off to be with her. It took her a second, and she sighed fairly heavily, but was looking at him like she knew he was waiting for her to get upset. She took as deep breath like she was trying to accept it, and then nodded.

"Ok, we can do that."

"Really? You're sure? Because I could figure it out. I've been going over it in my head - I think if you wanted to come along, I could keep you fairly safe and away from everything. It's just we'd be in the same hotel as everyone who's going to this thing, including my father..."

"Are you going to be ok?"

"With you and mom way on the other side of the country? I'll be fine."

"Ok."

"And, when's your next long weekend?"

"Why?" Olivia asked as Fitz massaged the back if her knees.

"Because, the campaigns done in a week. I wad thinking that I could take you somewhere nice. For putting up with me, and dealing with me the past couple of months especially it being the first couple of months as us."

"Fitz, you don't have to," Olivia said, then sighed, "What in the last couple of months makes you think that I'm the kind of girl that allows her boyfriend to take her on vacation?"

"Nothing, but I want to. I know you're not really used to being taken care of – "

"I take care of myself."

"You do, but it would be nice if you would let me in a little bit," He mused quietly, then looked back up at her, "What about a compromise?"

"What're you thinking?"

"The house I grew up in, it's a ranch, basically on the beach," He said and she nodded, as if she was simply letting him know that she heard him, "No one's ever there – it hasn't been sold, because we're a political family – it would throw off the optics. It's supposed to show that we're still a family, even though my parents have been divorced since I was about fourteen. Why don't we spend a weekend there?"

"I think I can do that."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I just want to thank you all for reading and leaving reviews… they make me smile …. Enjoy!

What Could Have Been

Chapter Eight

**February, 2000**

There was a very distinct warm, cozy, and safe feeling as Olivia woke up the next morning all wrapped up in Fitz's arms. It had only been a couple months, and because of Fitz's campaign three weekends and four dates - besides Christmas - added on to she didn't even want to know how many hours of phone conversation. Regardless of that, she was fairly certain she had never woken up with Fits still in bed with her. Usually he extracted himself at about seven in the morning to go for a run, and was already home and in the shower by the time she and her college student sleep schedule woke up. Then she would go and cook him breakfast, and shower after he got out – they had a pretty good routine going. But she was a little concerned that after last night, he hadn't gone for his wrong.

"You're cute when you sleep," He commented as he flipped onto his side to face her with a smile.

She stretched out with a playful yawn like she had in fact woken up all by herself. He laughed as her leg went right over his and her arm went right into the side of his face.

"Livy..."

"I'm stretching; usually I have the bed all to myself."

"Well, I woke up for my run, did my usual 'oh I would so much rather just stay in bed' and then decided I just would, and went back to sleep," He explained as he leaned in and kissed her softly, then seemed to register the concerned look she knew must have had on her face, "I'll bail out and go for a run later."

"Ok," She said, leaning in to meet him halfway for a kiss.

He rolled onto his hands and knees, hovering above her – effectively pinning her to the bed, but she didn't mind. She reached up and ran her fingertips through his hair, letting the very ends of her nails ran across his scalp and he bowed his head down, so that she could get a better angle if she wanted to. She did for a little while, and leaned up and kissed his forehead as she did, that was until he brought his his head up, and looked to her quietly for a second before lowering himself just enough to catch his lips in a mesh with hers. It was amazing, the subtle strength mixed in with how cautious, and gentle he was with her. She let her hand travel down his arm, her finger tips caressing his skin about as lightly as she could manage. He paused, smiling against her lips.

"Liv," He breathed, pulling back just enough to brush her hair back, and off her forehead, "You're beautiful, you realize that, right?"

She rolled her eyes, and expected him to chuckle it off, but he didn't. Instead, he gave her a semi-serious look. She thought he might try to say something about her throwing off his compliment. Instead, he leaned down and kissed her, kissed from her mouth over up towards her ear, and then down the side of her neck. He started to pull away completely, and lay back on his back, kissing down her shoulder until his head hit the pillow. He put an arm around her middle, and pulled her tighter – so that the side of her head was up against his chest again.

"You really have no idea, do you?" He commented into her hair.

"You smell really good," She said, burying her nose into his chest, and he mumbled something, "What?"

"Nothing," He said sheepishly, and he pressed his lips to the top of her head, "We should get up. I had a little something planned for us today."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" She asked him, and he shrugged, giving her an innocent look, "It's a surprise?"

"A little one," He said, and she crinkled her nose.

"I promise, you're going to love it," He said, kissing her nose anyway.

"That's a very big promise to make, mister," She teased him, and he smiled as hte got up out of bed, then turned around and scooped her up, bridal style.

He carried her off, and pulled some breakfast out of the fridge, that he had clearly made up before. So maybe he had planned on skipping his run, because clearly he, at the very least, hadn't wanted her to be the one to make breakfast that morning. She wondered what he would have done had he woken up so much earlier than her like he normally did. And then, as he was heating up breakfast in the oven, and she had picked up the paper to give it a once over, he set a vase of what had to be at least two and a half dozen red roses in front of her. It took her a second to process, as he kissed the top of her head and nonchalantly walked around with his coffee cup in hand, and sat down across from her at the table.

"Ok," He said, smiling at her over the flowers, "Maybe I did get up early this morning. Went for a run, got you those, took a shower, and got back into bed with you."

"You're cute," She said as the oven beeped, and he went over and got it out, shoveling it onto plates and put them down on the table.

"I'm glad you still think so," Fitz said as she started to eat, "Are you ready for your adjusted Valentine's Day?"

"Sure," She said, eating her French Toast.

When they finished eating, and Olivia hopped in the shower as Fitz very carefully excused himself. She was a little concerned about him going overboard, but there wasn't much that she could do about it. And tomorrow they were going to visit his mother for dinner, so how much could he really do today? When he had showed up to get her all upset the day before, she had thought that Violet had finally told him. Olivia had just been sitting, waiting for the shoe to drop on that one . She knew she had to be up and ready to comfort him, be there for him, once he found out. Once Violet told him, because it wasn't her place to say anything. She loved him, and she wanted him to know – because she knew that that was the right way for him. Some people would prefer not to know, but Fitz. He needed to know, he needed to know so that he could process, and figure it out before her symptoms were so severe that he had no choice but to deal with it. He needed time knowing.

"Livy, are you ok?" Fitz asked, they were walking hand in hand down by the docks.

"Yeah," She said carefully, and he gave her a strange look as her phone started to ring, she pulled it out of her pocket, "Hold on, it's my father."

"Don't answer it," Fitz hung his head, like he knew that it would absolutely kill her mood.

"He'll just keep calling."

"We'll be out of service soon," He said, jerking his head towards a large yacht that was docked up behind him.

"Seriously?"

"Lunch."

"Give me ten minutes," Olivia said, going up on her tip toes and pecking his lips quickly.

"I'll see you over there," He smiled a little to show her it was fine with him, and headed off.

"Hello?" Olivia flipped her phone open, and pressed it to her ear, facing a boat house instead of watching where Fitz was.

"Olivia," Her father's rather convincing voice filled her ear, "I was wondering what you were doing this weekend. I'm in California on business, I'm looking into a collection that we're thinking about absorbing into ours. I was wondering whether I could convince you to have dinner with me this evening?"

"I'm busy," She said.

"I thought I had you send me your schedule the first of the month."

"Something came up," She said evasively as she started to kick at a few pebbles that were sitting on the ground by the toe of her boot.

"Something came up? What could be more important than your father who you haven't seen in seven months?"

"Is there a point to this conversation?" Olivia asked, starting to press her toe into the side of the building.

"There is," He said, "Your presence at dinner tonight, I was asking you as a formality, you are expected at dinner this evening, at Carmen's. Let me make myself clear, you are being summoned. It'll only be an hour, maybe two. I think you can lend me that much. Good bye, Olivia – I will see you this evening. Do try and be there by six."

She heard him click his phone off, and put her phone back into her hand bag, staring up at he sky. It was almost two now, and if she was going to make it up to the restaurant on time, she didn't have time to do a cruise around the harbor for lunch. Their attempt at Valentine's Day – how could she tell Fitz that? He had, he always had, shut off his phone when they were together for the weekend. He had told her not to answer it, he had known – just like she had – that nothing good could from talking to her father. Fitz had known it just based on what she had told him about him. But she knew more, and she knew better – he would call the coast guard, the police, report her as a missing person…

"Liv?" He walked up behind her – clearly having seen from afar that she was upset.

"I have to go," She told him, and he furrowed his brow.

"What're you – "

"My dad, I've been summoned," She said, sarcastically, raising her arms up a little bit, "I'm sorry. He's here for business, and wants to have dinner. I don't have a choice, Fitz. I swear, if I had the choice…"

"It's ok," He said, even though she knew it wasn't.

"No it's not, you planned a whole day – I know you."

"It's ok," He said, "Where's dinner? I'll drive you back, and then you can drive back down after?"

"Ok," She said, and he nodded sadly.

"Unless you wouldn't mind me meeting him…"

"Fitz," She said slowly, trying to figure out which word to use in order to word it correctly, "If my mother was alive, you would meet her – and you would probably meet him, too. But she's not. My dad and I – we don't have the best relationship, and I really, really, don't want to include you in that whole mess. And it's not because I don't care about you, or you're just a fling that I'm having that I don't want to have to explain later. My father is not a nice man. Fitz, you – you mean so much to me, you – I love you, ok? I –"

"Livy," He said, stopping her, putting his arms around her, and kissing her softly, "It's ok. I don't ever have to meet him, if you don't want me too, ok? And, I don't know if you've caught onto this yet, but my mother raised me very old fashioned. If I'm seriously dating a woman, I should meet her parents, it's just been ingrained into me. I get that he's not really a parent, I understand that – but he's the closest thing that you have to one that I can meet. I only asked in case you wanted a wingman, ok? Because Livy, I love you, too. And that look on your face, when you were talking to your dad – I will do anything to try to help you not feel that way."

"Popcorn," She told him, and he nodded, "Wine, and a really bad romantic comedy."

"Really?" He seemed surprised, "Wine and popcorn I can understand. Romantic comedy, I didn't peg you for."

"Only when it's being used as a vice," She said, and he nodded, "It distracts me."

"Well," He said, kissing her forehead, "You go, have dinner with your father, try to not let it get you down too too much, and I'll be waiting at my apartment with your provisions, as requested."

"Ok," She replied, stepping into his arms, and letting him wrap her up in his arms, "Thanks, for understanding."

"Not a problem, Livy," He said, taking her hand.

Olivia couldn't think of anything that she would want to do less than spend even the hour and a half away from Fitz right in that minute. Her very distinct feeling that she didn't want to get out of his car, and get into her own was multiplied by about three or four thousand by the fact that she had to leave him in order to go and see her father. The sperm donor of a man that sometimes decided that he should be treated like a father - despite the fact that he had never really shown that he wanted to be one. That she was anything but something that her mother had convinced him into, and then died before she could finish raising her.

"Hi," Olivia gave the hostess at Carmen's a little smile, "I'm here to meet someone. Pope, should be the name you have."

"Ah, the other party isn't here yet, you're welcome to hang around in the lobby here."

"Thank you," Olivia told her, and walked back over to sit down on one of the couches.

"Don't worry, he'll show up," The man that she had sat down next to said, and she turned to see him, "A guy would have to be a complete moron to stand you up."

"I'm meeting with my father," She corrected him, and he nodded, "But I'll be sure to let your girlfriend know how sweet you are when she gets back."

"I'm not with a girl, I'm here with a couple of friends," He said, offering his hand for her to shake, which she did, "I'm Jake."

"Olivia," She replied, nodding.

"Well, Olivia – I'm a good guy, but I'm not a big fan of meeting someone's parents right away," He said, "So, before your father shows up – could I get your number?"

"I don't think that'd be a good idea," Olivia said, and Jake nodded slowly, "My boyfriend'd probably have a little bit of an issue with it."

"Ouch, sorry," Jake said, and Olivia nodded, "Lucky guy."

"Lucky me," Olivia replied as the door next to her opened with an amount of confidence that she had only ever known her father to have.

"Olivia," Her father said, and she turned, getting up.

"Hey," She said quietly, and her father smiled.

She had never seen a smile that seem quite as menacing as her father's did. Maybe it was just that she had never gotten used to seeing it spread across his face. It just seemed unnatural, like seeing one of the British guards reacting to something, or a mime speaking, or one of those clowns that really shouldn't be smiling. The creepy, eerie ones, that they used for horror movies. Actually, she resolved as the hostess was seating them down at a booth, that that was exactly what he was. Almost as terrifying as some of the exhibits that he looked over at the Smithsonian – Mummies were cool, but once you realized what was actually inside of them – the process. It would be enough to stop your normal sleeping habits.

"Olivia?"

"Yes?" She looked up from her meal to her father.

He rolled his eyes and nearly threw the napkin he was taking off his lap. She could see it, the rage and the violence bubbling under the surface - but he pushed it back down. He cleared his throat, and he reached for his water. Allowing the silence in a n attempt to intimidate he was one of his absolute favorite tactics when they were together and she wasn't really doing her part to interact. Did he think that she was still a child - well, technically she was, a child of twenty - but it wasn't like she was still a little girl. She wasn't as scared of him as she had been then. She was grown up, at least part of the way and his silent tricks weren't going to work quite as well as they had in the past.

"That guy you were talking to when I came in seemed nice," He said, and Olivia narrowed her gaze at him.

"Eh, he wasn't really my type," Olivia replied, and her father raised his eyebrows.

"You have a type?" He seemed pleased that she didn't have any interest.

"Not really."

Just a guy, that she wouldn't trade for anyone on the face of the planet. She had meant what she had said to him, that she loved him - only it was stronger than that. They worked together, she only ever wanted to be with him, no matter what they were doing professionally later on. And hopefully she would be able to convince him that he could make it without politics - there was no way he was going to end up happy doing something like that.

"Olivia," This time her father sounded like he was disciplining a small child, but it got her attention, "Where are you this evening? What could possibly have you so distracted?"

Well, when you demand someone's presence at dinner when they tell you they're busy, you kinda have to just take what they give you socially.

"I got my LSAT back," Olivia said, and her father leaned back.

"Have you thought about what you want to do once you're out of law school?"

"I haven't even started it yet," She replied, and he nodded, "But I was thinking that I'd want to be an attorney in DC."

"Why would you want to do that?" He asked, making a disgusted face, "You'd be listening to whiney, ungrateful, entitled politicians all day. Why not go into property law, or something like that?"

Because it's boring - where would be the challenge in that? It almost seemed a waste. She in no way thought that she was better than any other human, but she also believed that everyone had their strengths. And sitting her behind a desk deciphering which grand kids got which section of the estate was a waste of hers, and there was nothing worse than wasting talent. Her talent was seeing things from a whole bunch of different points of view, and if she could use that to help someone who was innocent be proven innocent and kept out of jail -

"I don't know," She said again, "I might look into it."

The rest of the dinner went in much the same fashion, he would talk about something, she would keep he actual responses to herself, and then just agree or give a vague enough answer that might be construed as agreement. Her father seemed rather pleased by the time that they were walking out, and that was really all that mattered. If he thought that it went well, he might not bother her except for the always awkward phone conversation until the summer when she moved home for three months. She was all set up to be working as an aid to one of the Governors, so she would be plenty busy, and hopefully wouldn't have to spend much time with him. The only problem was that Fits was going to be so far away.

She got back to Fitz's apartment, and to what looked to be every stereotypical Valentine's Day candy that was out and available on the coffee table, more flowers, a huge tub of popcorn that looked like he had just run to the movie theater and brought home with him, and a stack of movies that lead her to believe that he had raided and taken one of each at the closest Blockbuster.

"You went a bit overboard, huh?" She checked as she sat down on th couch with him, where he was apparently watching hockey, "Hockey?"

"Just fitting something manly in before a movie," He teased her as he leaned over and kissed her temple - pulling her in for cuddling as he lay with her the long way on the couch, "Oh, I almost forgot..."

He left her laying down as he sat up and reached under the couch, pulling up a bottle of white wine, and then a bottle of red. He put them onto the coffee table with everything else as he pulled up two empty glasses.

"I didn't know which you prefered," He said, looking to her for her to say as he massaged the back of her calf sweetly.

"Red," She replied, with a smile, and he nodded as he went to open it up.

Maybe she had found the reason why she had to put up with her father all these years. She was filly convinced and had seen firsthand that life was not fair, and sometimes just plain cruel - but it had a way of balancing out. The bad usually won the balance, but right here in this moment she didn't care that her life had balanced out with mostly bad things, relationships, and situations. Right now she had found something good, and not just something good, someone amazing. Fitz was kind, and sweet, and he had his demons - but so did she.

"Here you go, Angel," He smiled as he handed her glass over to her, "Now which one do you want to watch?"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So, as I thought that you all might be really wanting to read this chapter, as per your comments – I figured I'd post it as quickly as possible. Enjoy :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Nine

**March, 2000**

Olivia was sitting in her dorm room, studying up for a test that she had on Tuesday. It was Sunday night, so the dorm was fairly quiet - Abby had gone with a friend from one of her classes to go and study in the library, which left Olivia alone to study in peace without any danger of being disrupted. She had spent the weekend at school, as to not he fully distracted by Fitz the entire weekend. He had stopped by on Saturday night, they had gone to see a movie and gone back to her room to cuddle for a while. It would even out though, they were spending the coming long weekend at the ranch, so that was enough of a reward to keep her chin up.

She flipped to the next page in her text book, and stretched her hand, adjusting her desk light as she made sure that her back wasn't going to end up permanently hunched over. She looked out the door she had left open, and tapped her pencil. She was pretty sure at this point she was just going over the information like a sing-a-long. She knew all the words, she just needed to take a break. She knew all the information. She leaned back in her chair and looked around at the room, looking for some sort of distraction.

"Livy?" She turned and saw Fitz standing in the doorway, she sat up so quickly that her chair clunked against the tile floor.

"What're you doing here?" She asked, looking over at the clock and realizing his dinner with his mother would have finished an hour ago, "How was dinner?"

"Ok," He said, and she could tell something was wrong because he wasn't moving, wasn't coming further in.

He wasn't greeting her like he was just coming to surprise her with a visit. When he was surprising her he waited in the hall until she went to the bathroom, then snuck in and sat at her desk. Or, if he wasn't really thinking that he wanted to wait even that long, he would just come up behind her and start running her shoulders gently. But, this time he was just standing there, in her doorway, like he couldn't figure out what he should be doing next. She stood up and walked over to him, taking his hand and walking him inside, shutting the door and sitting him down on the edge of her bed. He still didn't really say anything.

"What's going on, Senator Grant?" She teased him lightly, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

"C'mere," He said, wrapping both arms around her and very lazily falling back, holding her carefully in his arms as he laid them down.

"Fitz," She caught a whiff of Scotch on his breath as he kissed her cheek, then nuzzled his face into her shoulder, "Are you drunk? Did you drive all the way from your mom's like this?"

"No," He replied, his hand slipping onto her ass, "I stopped, about a mile back."

"Ok," She said, shifting just enough so that she could kiss the side of his neck, "What's going on, Fitz?"

She didn't get an answer, but Fitz started to shake a little bit in her arms. She held onto him a little bit tighter, but it took her another couple of minutes before she realized he was crying, almost silently into her shoulder. She shifted them so that his face was up against her chest, and she ran her hand in circles around his back. He started to calm down a little bit, and she tipped his face up so that she could see his face. She kissed his forehead, and then used one hand to wipe off his face, the other hand staying on the back of his head. He looked up at her for a second, and she leaned down and kissed the bridge of his nose.

"Fitz," She whispered, her lips right up against the edge of his ear, "What's going on, baby?"

She was sure he was about to answer her, but instead, he got up and left the room. She rolled over to follow him and realized the next door she heard was the bathroom on swinging closed again. She pause for a second, grabbing a face cloth from her closet and then following him in there, hearing him puking in one of the stalls as she ran water from the sink until it was hot, then soaking the cloth for him. He flushed, and came staggering back out, leaning on the counter for support as she rolled the face cloth up, washed his face briefly before pressing it to his forehead. She was wondering if he was that upset, or if it was the alcohol - but it was probably both.

"Handsome," She tried to keep his attention as she ran her hand through his hair.

"Mom..." He started slowly, but at this point she had starts to understand what was going on, "She's dying. She told me at dinner, and I ..."

"Shh," She whispered as she started to lea him back into her room, and got him to lay down.

"She has cancer," Fitz mumbled with his eyes closed, and Olivia nodded as she fixed the pillow under his head, "It's he liver - she hasn't had ..drink in..."

He passed out before he could finish his sentence, and she went over and took his shoes off for him. She put them down with a line of her own and pulled the sheets up around him as she went to change to go to bed as well. She was just putting her pajama shirt on the back of her chair and going to find her toothbrush when Abby quietly edged into the room. It didn't tame her too long before realizing that Fitz was asleep in Olivia's bed.

"Was this planned?" Abby asked, gesturing over towards the passed out Fitz.

"No, his mom's dying," Olivia told her, and Abby nodded, "He just sort of showed up. From what I gathered, she just told him earlier at dinner."

"Right," Abby said, putting her bag down by her desk, "You can't do anything norm, can you? You and your senator boyfriend..."

"Goodnight, Abby."

"I'm not complaining. Maybe you could find me one."

Olivia laughed a little as she went to the bathroom to get ready for bed, and Abby came in as she was brushing her teeth. When she got back into the room he was snoring, and she smiled a little to herself. He never snores unless he had really managed to pass out. She pulled up the covers and set he alarm so she wouldn't miss class, and therefore her test. Fitz was still sleeping when she woke up, so she kissed his head and put a glass of water and some ibuprofen on the table near where he was sleeping, with a couple extra towels before she he added out to her test. When she got back from class, she keyed in as he was pulling his shirt on.

"Look at you," Olivia said as she walked the rest of the way into the room, and put her arms around his neck.

"Hi," He said, kissing the top of her head, "Thanks for taking care of me, Liv."

"What are girlfriends for?" She teased him as she went up on her tip toes and kissed him, "But I swear if you come here drunk all the time..."

"I know," He replied as he leaned down and kissed her.

"Hey, we don't have to go away this weekend, ok?" She told him and he shook his head.

"It's three days," He replied, "And its something we were both looking forward to. Mom's not going to die this weekend, and I'm not going to delay it for three months."

"You sure?"

"I'm very sure," He replied, leaning down and kissing her sweetly, "But I told mom I'd bring her to chemo this afternoon."

"You want me to come?"

"I'll be ok, thanks. I'll see you Friday night. And there's a hot tub, so bring a suit."

The rest of the week went slower than she could imagine a week could pass. She kept waiting for Fitz to push her away, for his mother's warning to come to fruition, but he wasn't. The fact he couldn't see her til Friday was purely him being busy, and her not needing the distraction in getting ready to take a good break. He called her every night, and she was waiting for it, for him to start hanging up quicker, or for him to sound more distant. But, he wasn't, if anything their conversations were longer, and he was confusing more in her, spending more time about asking about her. She went to her classes and got all the homework that she would have been doing over the weekend for the next week, finishing a paper for a class, and setting up an outline so she could write it without too much of an issue when she got back. She went out with Abby and a couple of friends on Thursday, and before she knew it she was in the car with Fitz's hand on her knee as he pulled into a long, gated driveway.

"Fitz, this place is beautiful," Olivia commented as he shut the car off, the sun was just about to set on the cliffs to the side of the house, "This is where you grew up?"

"Until mom went to rehab for the first time, when I was ten and they sent me away to school," He said, and she nodded as they got out of the car, and a few people came running out of the house.

"You grew up with butlers?" She asked him, and he shrugged as he walked around the car, and put his arm around her waist.

"A housekeeper, a cook, and a butler," He said, "Someone has to keep the house running. I don't think anyone in the family's actually been here in years. I think dad had a Christmas party here the last Christmas before I turned eighteen. He knew there wasn't a chance I was going to show up after it wasn't court ordered that I be there."

"Show me around?" She asked as the butler was walking past them, bringing the bags inside.

"Bring them to the top suite, please Mickey," Fitz told him, and Mickey nodded, "And could you ask Miranda to make enough dinner for us as well. Knowing her she's been waiting for an order – but we'll just eat whatever she's cooking for you and Carolina this evening."

"Yes, Sir," He said, nodding as he headed into the house.

"Now," Fitz turned his head to look down at her, stealing a not so quick kiss, "You wanted to see the place?"

He walked her around the back of the house, and up the edge of the cliffs. Where it was revealed to her that there was a set of rickety white stairs that went all the way down the side of the cliff to where there was a little private beach, which she assumed had been where Fitz had spent most of his summers. She turned and he leaned in to kiss her, it was like something out of a book – and she smiled as he trailed his hand down her side, and took her hand again. Next was the backyard, where there was a pool, then he brought her up onto the porch, where about four feet out of the door, and he stooped down to set it up.

"Wishful thinking, I know," He teased her as he turned it on, and turned up the jets, "But it's actually really relaxing.

"Oh, I'm going in with you," She said, shivering slightly as they ducked inside.

He gave her a quick tour of the house, showing her where everything was, where the good snacks were, introduced her to the household staff. Upstairs there were eight bedrooms, which was surprising to her for a family that only had one son. She came from a family with one kid, too but they had never lived in a house so large. She had to remind herself of what she knew of Fitz's father – he was entirely the kind of man that judged people by the size and grandiosity of their house. He probably built this house with nothing other than the idea of showing off his wealth to the world rather than putting a roof over his wife and son's heads. It was more about telling the whole planet – or anyone that would listen – that he was there, he was important, and that he had power. It was beautiful, but that's exactly what it was. So, therefore it made sense that he wouldn't have sold it, even though no one had lived there, or apparently even visited in recent years.

"And this," Fitz paused outside of a door that looked like it had very rarely been opened, "Was a guest section that my father had had built. It's actually a lot grander than the master bedroom. It was meant to impress, and create the illusion, and make them wonder what the master suite was like. I figured we could spend the weekend sleeping here.

"You figured," Olivia said, and Fitz nodded.

"I've never actually spent the night in here," He said, opening up the door and leading her inside.

The room itself was much bigger than she had imagined it being, with a bathroom, the door open so she could see an oversized bathtub, and embroidered towels, was directly to her left. Fitz chuckled as he reached back, taking her hand and bringing her farther into the room. The rest of the room was split in two, half was hardwood dressers with intricate carvings, a huge canopy bed that must have been completely custom made, and the other half was a leather couch. It was facing a fireplace, with a nice television, and a mini-fridge worked into the entertainment system. If she had to guess, it was filled with rare fine wines, and probably bottles of Scotch that were worth over a hundred dollars each. She took a deep breath, then brought her attention to the picture window, that was designed so that you could only see the cliffs, and the Pacific Ocean as a backdrop.

"Not too bad, right?" Fitz said, as he went over to their bags, which were already waiting by the dresser.

"You tricked me," She said, walking over to him, putting her hand on his chest.

"I wouldn't dream of it," He smirked as he put his arms around her, his hands on her lower back.

"This is like you renting out a whole hotel for the two of us."

"It was just sitting here, unused," He said, "Just because I took you to a house that was already in possession instead of a hotel on the beach… doesn't mean it has to be any less romantic."

He leaned down, and kissed her softly, barely brushing his lips up against hers – teasing her. She broke away from him, and went into her bag, pulling out the little white bikini she had brought with her. She very casually let him catch a glimpse of what she was carrying, and then sauntered quite pointedly over to the bathroom to put it on. She managed to secure it pretty well, even though she had a feeling – and was actually hoping – that by the end of the night it would be strewn somewhere on the floor of the suite. That was the goal, but she intended on having a bit of fun with him first. She made sure it was secured tightly, and then took one of the towels off the counter, and wrapped it around her – grabbing another one for him as she walked back out to the main room.

He had already changed, and not bothered to keep a shirt on. She paused slightly as she handed him his towel, and he looked slightly amused that she and wrapped herself up in a towel. She set her hand on his rather defined chest. It wasn't like she hadn't seen him without a shirt now and then, but she was never quite over the fact that even as slim, and intelligent as he was – he had a great body to top it off. She reached out for his hand, and brought him out to the porch – momentarily getting lost in the house. He chuckled, moving her hair from the back of her neck and kissing it quickly.

"This way," He whispered, taking her hand and leading her off towards the back door, "Wait here for a second, I'll get the cover off…"

She nodded as he slipped through the back sliding door, and she watched from where she was until he had moved the cover, and turned on the lowlights, and ended up getting in. She grabbed his towel and set it on the railing before taking her own off, and joining him in the water. He put himself into the corner, and there was a groove in the bottom of the tub was made so that she could let her legs cascade over the side as he brought her up onto his lap.

"Mm," He mumbled into her ear as he hit the button on the control to turn up the jets, "I am definitely going to have to come up with more reasons for you to wear this."

He pulled a little at the ties on her bottoms, letting his fingertips roll against her hip.

"So there is the stereotypical guy somewhere in there," She said, turning and kissing him, "'Yay, a girl in a bikni.'"

"'_My_ girl, getting into a hot tub with me'," He corrected her, pressing his lips to her temple quite forcefully, "My patients can only hold on for so long, though."

He started to kiss down the side of her cheek, then down the side of her neck. She could feel him letting his tongue slip out more and more until he got to her shoulder. When he got down to the base of her neck, and started to nibble at her shoulder. Together with the jet hitting her back, she leaned back into him as his hand scaled from her side across to her stomach, the very tips of his fingers graze her skin. She could feel the goose bumps raise up all over her body. She reached over and pressed her hand up against his side, running her hand along the lines, and up to his chest. She turned so that she was straddling him in the water, her forehead against his shoulder as his hands started to travel around her back, wandering.

"Fitz," She kissed the edge of his ear.

"Yes?" He breathed, his voice significantly lower.

"We should probably take this inside," She trailed her hand down his chest, and to the waistband on his shorts.

"Should we?" He teased as he leaned across the small gap, and kissed her, a little more sloppily than she was used to from him.

"I think you might like the results if we did," She replied, and he smiled.

"Well, what about you?" He asked, moving a small part of her hair from the edge of her face, as he looked up at her, "Are you-"

"Fitz."

"Yes?"

"Bring me upstairs."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Hello, so I hope you guys can read this one on the first try this time…. Enjoy :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Ten

**March, 2000**

Fitz was standing out on the balcony with a cup of coffee. Olivia had still been asleep when he woke up, and he didn't want to run the risk of waking her up hanging around. He had woken up mid flying across the Atlantic Ocean and, and when he had dreams like that, the nightmares, there was no way he was going to go back to sleep anytime soon. That was why he usually ran in the mornings, to clear his head. But he wasn't going to do that when he had invited Liv for a romantic weekend. Instead, he was standing out on the balcony he wasn't even sure she had noticed in his sweat pants and a hoodie he had packed for himself. He leaned up against the railing, watching the waves hitting the rocks for a while. It was one of the few things, other than Olivia, that could calm him down - and calm him down quickly.

He could feel his heart rate returning to normal when he heard the door open up behind him. He turned around, and Olivia was coming out. She had thrown on his t-shirt that he had worn the night before, before they had gone to the hot tub, and her little flannel PJ pants. One of the blankets from by the couch was draped over her shoulders, almost like a little cape. It was a cute, and he smiled as he walked over and put one hand on her hip. He opened his mouth and she reached up, tipping his cup towards herself to take a sip.

"Good morning," He smiled, reclaiming his coffee, then kissing her, "Did you sleep ok?"

"I slept great," She assured him as she managed to step right up in his arms, he had to put his coffee down on the little patio table.

"Well, what has you in such a good mood this morning?"

"What? Women aren't allowed to enjoy sex with their boyfriends?"

"No, in fact, it works out a whole lot better when they do," He was quick to reply, as he filtered her slightly back handed compliment.

"It would have been nice to wake up with you, though," She said, and he chuckled as he kissed her temple, wrapping his arms tight around her.

"Sorry, I didn't want to wake you," He said, letting his hands slid down to the side of her thigh, his chin on her shoulder, "I can try to manage that, if you want. Though, I might point out I was armed in the face for staying last time."

"Mmm, but I like waking up with you there," She said dreamily, and he chuckled.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Don't – I'm just being whiney," She said, reaching over, he leaned with her towards the table, and she stole another sip of his coffee.

"You? Whiney?" He made a joke of it, but was serious at the same time.

"I'm sometimes like that before I get my coffee."

"I feel like that's the only time you're ever going to tell me something I'm doing wrong."

"Oh, I'll tell you when you're being stupid."

He didn't doubt it.

"It's not being whiney if it's something you want," He said, handing her the cup, which she held in both hands, "I'd like to know if you have anything you'd rather me do differently."

"I don't need you to spoil me, Fitz," She accused, and he shrugged, "You already do, more than enough. You don't have to change your morning routine – but you're going to anyways, because I said something."

"Maybe sometimes," He said as he leaned in and kissed her, "I'd hate for you not to say stuff like this in the future."

"You're impossible."

"I love you."

"Well if that's not enough to question your opinions," He chuckled, "Miranda usually has breakfast waiting down in the kitchen by nine. I feel bad we didn't eat her dinner last night. We got a little busier a little quicker than I had thought we would."

"Well, it's only eight thirty, you woke up early," He told her as he refused to let her out of his arms.

"But we only have a half an hour," She teased him as she led him inside, the look she was giving him convincing him to cooperate without any difficulty, "We can't really get anything accomplished in that time span, can we?"

She was baiting him, clear as day, tempting him - and he had absolutely no qualms about falling right into it. He picked her up in both arms like he might carry her over a threshold in a few years, and put her down right in the center of the bed. He could recognize a challenge when he heard one, no matter how coy she was trying to be about it. He climbed up over her and started to kiss her, starting with her forehead as she close her eyes in anticipation, a small smile across her small features. He was about to start working his way down as his fingers hooked up and over the draw string waistband on her pants. His home, over on the night stand started to ring, and being a Senator now he didn't have the luxury to shut it off for the weekend. He ignored it though, as he pulled her pants down. From there, any self control that he had thought he was going to have to kiss her all over disappeared into thin air as he pulled back and knelt between her legs. He scooted back, getting ready lower his mouth down when his phone started to ring again. He paused, sighing angrily, an shooting a glare over at the phone - like whoever was calling was able to see the rather intimidating look on his face and should be prepared to be skinned alive.

"Fitz," Olivia finally piped up as it stopped ringing, and the tone started up again without even a second in between, "Just answer it. They won't stop calling until you do."

"Augh," He moved so that she wasn't right in front of him and slid across the comforter on his stomach to his phone as she pulled her pants back up, "Hello, Fitzgerald Grant speaking."

"Finally, about time you picked up," Cyrus barked into his ear, "Listen, what are you doing this weekend?"

"I'm busy."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah, Cy. I'm busy tonight. I have a few plans," He reached over and wrapped his arm around Liv's tiny waste as he said so.

"Well cancel them," Cy said, and Fitzgerald rolled his eyes, "I've arranged for you to have dinner with Helena McDonald this evening."

"Who?" Fits asked, on the off chance it was political or business related.

"Helena McDonald," Cyrus repeated, as if Fitz should have any idea of who this woman was, "She's that daughter of Jack McDonald, the governor? She's cute, she's single, she's not twenty to twenty five years old - she's old enough for you, Fitz. The press will love her, and they'll start seeing you as more grown up. Not just the former senator's brat."

"No," Fitz had let him ride out his little spiel, "I'm not going to do that. You know me better than that."

"Fitz..."

"That part of my life is not any of your business, Cy," He said, choosing his words very carefully, not wanting to upset Olivia, "Nor is it California's business, I'm quite alright without any help there."

"What do I tell Helena?"

"That I am off for a romantic weekend away with my girlfriend," Fitz was very rapidly losing his temper, "And that my manager is very sorry for the confusion, but that I'm very much in love with her. And you can add in that if my manager doesn't start concerning himself with other things, he'll have to find himself a new meal ticket to leach himself onto. Am I clear?"

Olivia flipped around in his arms, clearly alarmed with some of the things he had said, and the tone of his voice.

"Crystal," Cyrus replied, "You never confirmed to me that you had a specific -"

"Well, I'm telling you now," Fitz said, snapping his phone shut and tossing it over the side of the bed.

"What was that all about?" Olivia asked, and Fitz shook his head as he pulled her in tight, snuggling up to her, which she accepted.

"Cyrus was trying to set me up with some woman," Fitz thought the casual and unconcerned truth would be the best way to go, "And I was just telling him that there was no way that was going to happen, because I love you, my girlfriend. And I have absolutely zero interest in anyone else."

"Is she pretty?"

"I honestly don't remember if she was," He said, kissing her shoulder, "But it wouldn't matter, because there's not a single possible way she's as beautiful as you are. Or as smart, and perfect to me."

"Why was Cy..."

"I never fully confirmed to him that I was seeing someone. He's on the same track as my dad was a few months ago..."

He trailed off, but the look on her face told him that she remembered. Which was handy, because he did not want to have to explain that to her again.

"So Cyrus has been trying to set you up with..."

"This was the first, and the last time," Fitz told her as he kissed the side of her head, "I wasn't joking when I threatened his job."

"Maybe we should just come out," She said, in a rather defeatist tone, and he made a bracing face.

"Is that what you want?"

"No. But if..."

"Livy, a lot of media attention comes with being associated with my family, forget the senator bit," He said, kissing her forehead, "And I'm not going to let you be exposed to that until you're ready. It's a miracle we've gotten away with it this long, and now Cy knows you exist it's going to be harder, but I'm not going to let anyone make that happen before you're ready. Cyrus and my father being at the top of that list."

"But if you're getting pressured..."

"I can handle it, Liv," He told her with a quick kiss, "Trust me, this isn't some elaborate fling. You're the only person I've felt this much for - connected this much to. I don't think about anyone else, and when Cyrus was just on the phone - it was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard. I want you, Liv. If I could have anything in the world, it would still be you."

"It's time for breakfast," She looked over at the clock faster she gave what he had said a moment to sink in.

"Livy," He pressed his forehead to hers.

"It's ok, Babe," She told him, and the 'babe' was the part that let him know she really meant it, "I know I'm your only girl."

"The one and only," He emphasized, he hated thinking that she might have had a fraction of a cell in her brain that thought otherwise, "C'mon, let's go eat. Miranda makes these cinnamon rolls..."

Just like he remembered, there was a giant cinnamon roll, covered in white icing waiting for them to share with a coffee and orange juice for each of them. They ate, and then he convinced her to take a drive with him a little ways down the coast. She got into the front seat, and he over at her in her seat. He smiled, he couldn't imagine anyone else even filling the seat. Well, Cyrus sat there routinely, but it wasn't the same. He leaned over and kissed her gently.

"So, I want to ask you something, but I don't want to mess up anything or make you sad about it again."

"I have somewhat of an idea of what you're gonna say."

"How are you doing?"

"Me? I'm doing great," He replied, knowing that wasn't really what she meant.

"Fitz..."

"Oh," He teased her, playing with her hand as he spoke, "You mean about my mother."

"Yes," Olivia said as she gave him a little nod, then rested her head against his arm as if to solidify that she was there for him.

Like she hadn't proved that the other night.

"I'm still processing, I think," He told her, keeping his eyes firmly on the road, "Don't worry, my initial response isn't probably going to happen again. It's just..."

"What?" She prompted him, and he just sort of shrugged.

"It sounds really bad."

"And you're worried I'm going to judge you or something?" She teased him, "There's no wrong way to feel here..."

"I'm mad - Angry."

"Well, I think that would be an appropriate honest reaction..."

"No, it's not," Fits said quickly, "I'm not mad that this is happening, it sucks but she abused her liver for a long time. And I don't really have anyone to blame for that. I blame my dad, but it's not really his fault. It's not like he ever changed, or did anything differently than when they met - it's not like he tricked her. And if I ha to deal with him I'd drink like that too. Mom's always been a little frail, and I knew that she was weak. I've always been keenly aware that she wasn't going to be around for very long. Since I was a kid I've been waiting for something like this to happen. What I'm angry about is - She knew about this three months ago, and she didn't tell me until now. And there's no room for anger. She has three, maybe four months and I don't want - I wan it to be happy. I don't get to be angry."

"You should talk to her about it, Fitz," She paid quietly, running her hand down his arm as he parked near a beach.

"I can't put that on her," Fitz said, turning and looking at her, "I want to give her the best for whatever's left. I don't want her to think I'm angry or she's a burden. We can't go back and change it."

"I understand that, but it doesn't have to be that way," Olivia told him, "You'd have to bring it up carefully and just ask her why she didn't tell you right away. She's a tough lady, on the inside. I'm sure she had her reasons. She loves you, and it'll be better for you to get it out now than to be angry with her when she's not here anymore to explain herself. I know I lost my mother when I was a lot younger than you, but if I had had any warning that she was going to go... I would have asked her so many questions. I wad have asked her things, talked to her about boys and prom and schools and college and what I wanted to do with my life. All the stuff I wished she could have been there for."

Fitz stayed quiet for a minute. In all the things that they talks about on the regular basis, her mother wasn't really on of them. Well, she talked about her like things they used to do together, or with things she had wished she was there for, but never about her dying. Never about what had happened - which he had come to assume was some sort of car accident or something from the way she had vaguely referenced it in passing. It was obviously not something she like or wanted to talk about, so he didn't push. He figured it would come out in little bit, and he knew better to think he could talk her into doing anything she didn't want to do already. But she had a point.

"Wouldn't it be better to sacrifice the one day, or two hours amongst three good months to clear it up? It might only take ten minutes..."

She definitely had more than a point."

"Will you go with me, when I go to talk to her?"

"Of course," She said, lacing her fingers with his and giving his hand a good squeeze, "I just want you to be ok."

He nodded, because he understood what she meant when she said that. She wanted him to be ok once his mother was gone, and he nodded because he wanted the same thing.

"Ok," He replied, pulling her hand up and kissing the back of it just before starting up the car again.

By the time they got back to the ranch the comfortable and resolved silence they had been riding in since their conversation had begun to deteriorate. She had been running the tips of her fingers around his wrist as he drove, his hand down on her thigh. For the last ten minutes of of the ride she had been very slowly working her way up his arm. He ha pretended not to notice, but not because he didn't feel it or wasn't reacting - but because he was driving. He was driving, and he wasn't entirely sure that if he did something to acknowledge it that he would be able to keep control of the car. He knew it was safest for everyone involved if he just waited until he was safely parked in the driveway. That didn't stop him from stealing glances over at her out of the corner of his eye when he knew she wouldn't really notice.

"Hi," He said with a mischievous grin as he slipped the car into park, and turned to face her, "My Angel, you are a driving hazard."

"You seemed to do just fine," She said as she put her hand up on the side of his face, holding his head still while she leaned in and kissed him sweetly.

"Lunch should be ready," He told her, and she smiled, "And as long as your father doesn't call and demand to see you again - on which case I will probably take your phone and at least say some not nice things to him..."

"Fitz..." She warned him.

"Hey, I've got to get the anger out somehow," He joked, she didn't really think that was funny though, "I had them set it up a little fancier than lunch at home. So, we're eating in the attached greenhouse."

"You didn't give me the whole tour."

"You couldn't stay for lunch around the harbor," He teased, leaning over and kissing her.

"Ok," She said, as if she really had to, "But after lunch we should definitely try out that tub in our bathroom."

She had read his mind.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Well, here we go for now... wow, this story's going to be long... Enjoy :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Eleven

**May, 2000**

Fitz was sifting through all the piles of documents that had accumulated on his desk at the capital while he had been running around trying to make sure his mom was getting the things she needed from the nurses, and was getting to the hospital when she needed to. Then, when all that was done he was determined to spend as much time with Olivia as he reasonably could - though she had been in the midst of finals for the last week so he had hardly seen her. He called her most nights, all while trying to make sure what he was responsible senator-wise was taken care of.

He was starting to come to terms with what was happening. He had been able to fully except what was going on shortly after he and Liv had sat down and talked to his mother about a month and a half ago. Livy had been right, it was a whole lot better to get it out then, when he could get his explanation than being angry and bitter about it for years to come. And, it had only taken about a half an hour for his mother to explain it to him, and for him to understand. He didn't even want to think about how long it would take him to tell something like that to her, or to Liv. He shivered at his desk.

"There you are, good I caught you before you left," Cyrus said as he walked in.

"I was just about to head out. I have to pick Liv up, and then get down to mom's."

"Liv?" Cyrus's ears perked up, "I get a name now?"

It had sort of just slipped out.

"Sure."

"Now, you have to pick her up? Where? The dentist? The doctor?"

"Stop fishing, Cy," Fitz replied as he gathered up what he was taking with him, "You're not going to get anything else today."

"Ok," Cyrus nodded fairly, "Give your mom my best."

"My mom hates you, Cy. Almost as much as she hates Dad."

"Well, maybe don't mention me then."

"Wasn't planning on it."

"You can tell Liv hello, right?"

"I'll probably forget," He said, because he was planning on it.

"Am I ever going to get to meet her?"

"Maybe at the wedding," He said, taking a deep breath, probably more like his mother's funeral, "Which isn't going to be anytime soon."

"So you are very serious about her?"

"Stop fishing, Cy," Fitz said as he walked out of the office.

Olivia had her dorm room most of the way packed by the time Fitz arrived to get her from school. From what he understood, she had passed in her last final just before he had shown up. Her internship in DC didn't start until the end of June, so he had asked her to stay in California with him until she had to go back for it. He didn't say so, but it was understood even though it was unspoken, that he was only apart on her staying because of his mother. He was fully prepared to go an visit her as much as possible, but his mom was fading quite quickly now. When he had asked her to stay, she had said something about that she had already been hoping to. He knew that she didn't want to leave him there alone, and he had been thankful for that.

"How's your mom?" She asked as he pulled away from kissing her 'hello'.

"About the same," He said, stretching slightly as he went to grab a few of her boxes, "We'll load up both of our cars and head to my place, just unload everything into the living room - what you're not throwing into storage. Then we can head over there to see her."

"We're not staying with her?"

"She's got her nurses there with her," Fitz told he as he leaned around his boxes and kissed her quickly, "My apartment's only two miles up the road. Not a big deal."

She skipped the knowing look, and just nodded - understanding that he didn't want to be there full time. He had talked to her about it before, on the phone about how sad it was in the house with everything that was going on. She had seemed to understand then, but it had still been a valid question. He had been flip flopping on just about everything all week - he couldn't be sure about anything, and Liv had been helping him out a lot with it.

"Ok," She said as she walked over and loaded herself up, "Where did you park?"

"Right next to you," He said as they headed out.

It took them a couple trips before the room was empty, and all the things that were going into storage were in her car, and everything else was packed tightly into his little one. He followed her over to the storage warehouse just off campus, where they unloaded all the things she wouldn't need for the summer, until she got back, and then she followed him back to his place. Her father was paying to have the car brought back to DC, so she could use it while she was there. He was postponing all his trips there for the time being, procrastinating so that he would have excuses to go over the summer. And, the last thing he wanted to do was fly completely, clear across the country with his mom so sick.

"You ready, babe?" Olivia said as she came back from his room, where she had wanted to put some of her clothes - he was taking a break, sitting on the couch.

"Yeah," He said flipping his head back to see her behind the couch, but not moving.

"You wanna hang out here for a couple of minutes?" She asked, walking around and sitting down on his lap.

He smiled as he wrapped his arms around her, her head snuggled into his shoulder as she kissed the side of his neck. He turned his head and nuzzled the side of her in. Her arms went up around his neck, and he could feel her starting to rub the back and side of his neck. He could feel himself starting to relax, letting his eyes close for a minute. He could feel himself starting to fall asleep as he felt her massaging his scalp. He could feel his chin about to drop when he felt the familiar and fantastic feeling of her lips pressing up t hs, playing with them.

"We told your mom we would bring dinner," She reminded him, "C'mon, I'll drive."

"Angel," He murmured as she offered her hand to help him up.

"Why do you call me that?" She asked with an innocent curiosity.

He shrugged, and she just sort of accepted that.

His mother, at this point, was chair bound, and coughing often. This want how he wants to remember her, an the house was certainly depressing enough to make him never want to step into the house again. He was already trying to figure out how to sell it. He went to visit her because he was supposed to, an He wanted to spend as much time with her as he could before she passed. However, the 'good' days were long gone. Up until about a week ago, she could walk around the house with her walker - but she was too weak for that now. She had started refusing to go into the hospital for treatment, and he really couldn't blame her. It wasn't helping her at all, it wasn't even delaying the inevitable - it was just making her nauseous while she waited.

"Hey, mom," Fitz said as he walked into the house Olivia right in front of him as they carried in Chinese food.

"Fitzgerald," Her voice was even weaker than she was.

They had her set up in the living room. Going upstairs took way too much out of her, that much had been clear almost a month ago, so they had a hospital bed, on wheels that was in the corner for her to sleep in. She was propped up on pillows, in an arm chair, and he didn't ever think that she would have seemed so small to him. Her body temperature was running cold, almost terrifyingly low. So, even though it was almost eighty degrees outside, the nurse had her wrapped up in blankets. He smiled at her kindly.

"Did you come by yourself?"

"Oh, I know better than that," He teased her as he kissed the top of her head, "Livy's in the kitchen getting the food out. We brought you Chinese."

"My good boy," She yawned, "You were always such a good boy, trying to take care of me. I told your father not to send you away when I went to rehab. I knew you'd think you failed."

"I did," He said, nodding, "I thought I did for a long time - until I was old enough to realize they were what you needed."

"Olivia?"

"She's coming," Fitz replied, as Olivia came in, a platter of Chinese Food on her arm.

"I wish you could quit politics," She mused, and Olivia nodded as she sat down, setting the platter on the coffee table.

"Me too, but he won't," Olivia said, running her hand over Fitz's hair.

His heart rate sped up, and he shot an anxious look at his mother - Olivia was too occupied with filling up three plates for them to see them. His mother nodded slightly.

"It's the Navy in him," His mother said, trying to make it sound off handed, unconcerned, "He's too stubborn."

"Guilty as charged," Fitz said, maybe trying a little too hard to play along, and Olivia gave him a strange look.

The rest of dinner went without a hitch. Once they were done eating they were able to visit with her for a little while before she started to get tired. They said goodbye, and he couldn't help but notice as she gave Olivia a slightly tighter squeeze than he had witnessed in weeks. He gave her a hug and a kiss, and before he knew it he was back at his apartment, lying in bed with Olivia. She ha her arms around him tight. She had had to shut her phone off, he remembered that much. It had started ringing in the car.

"What did you tell your father?" He asked curiously as she pulled the covers down.

He had stripped to his boxers so there was a little breeze against his chest. She was wearing something silky, which made him look down, checking her out as he slipped his hand down her side.

"I didn't tell him anything," She kissed his forehead, "I didn't answer the phone, remember?"

"Not really."

"It's ok, you've been kind of out of it - understandably."

"Thank you," He whispered, he had felt like an alien, or a child the past few weeks - he felt her started to rub her hand over his ear, which was oddly soothing, "This is why you're my Angel."

"Why? Because I wear cute stuff to bed even when you're clearly too tired to do anything about it and give you scalp massages?"

He shook his head 'no' almost lazily.

"Because you're beautiful, you came out of nowhere and I fell in love you," He said, "Which, I had no concept of, no example. - It wasn't something I ever thought I'd find. And now - I can't imagine not having you. Well, I can, but my lungs start to constrict, and if I think about it too long I think I'd pass out. You came out of nowhere and I can't even think about you not being in my life. I need you, not just because you're taking care of me now, but thanks. That's why I call you Angel."

She smiled a little bit, then leaned in and kissed him softly, pulling him closer to her as she rested her head into his shoulder.

"Go to sleep, babe," She whispered in his ear as he drifted off to sleep, whether he wanted to, or not.

He woke up the next morning to the feeling of Olivia's hand working it's way up his side. He didn't open his eyes, she was clearly trying to wake him up, and he wondered how far she would take the subtly before she just tried to talk to him. Her hand ran up over his chest, slowly, which made him question whether or not she was actually trying to wake him. She ran a circle around his chest, right over his heart before he felt the cool of her lips land right in the center of his chest. Her cheeks brushed against his skin, warm and he moved a little bit. It didn't matter now, she knew he was awake – his eyes peeked open as she ran her hand around his arm. The next place he felt her lips was on his shoulder, her hand slipping down onto his hip, her fingers slipping under the band in his boxers.

"Livy," He whispered, and regrettably, her hand shot right back up and into the center of his six-pack instead.

"Mmm," She smiled, looking up at him with a sparkle in her eyes – somehow getting it from the sun coming in the window, "I was thinking I should let you sleep in."

"Oh no, you're much too impatient for that," He teased her, his hand slipping across the silk and grabbing onto her ass as she went up to hover up above him, "It's very cute though."

"Cute?"

"Seductive," He corrected, sitting up on his hands so that he could kiss her.

She smiled against his lips, and then he heard something that made him fall back, completely thrown out. Someone was knocking on the door.

"Lay back," She dipped to kiss his chest as she got up, and threw on her bathrobe that she kept on the back of the door.

He left the bathrobe there even when she wasn't there with him. It left the illusion that she was there, even when she wasn't. He brought his hand up to his forehead to block the sun that was coming through the window, and she smiled at him.

"I'll get the door, I'll be right back," She told him, and slipped out of the door.

The smiled lingered on his face as he leaned back, then rolled over onto his side so that he could check the time. His alarm clock was sitting on the nightstand on Olivia's side of the bed. Sit on her side, she liked to have a glass of water in reach because of her nightmares. She had them one in a while, at least when he was sleeping next to her. From what he understood, she had them less when she was with him, or at least they were a lot less vivid or something. When they were violent, she'd start thrashing in her sleep, and wake him up. It was almost like what would happen right after he had just gotten home from the Navy.

It was only just about nine in the morning, and he furrowed his brow – trying to figure out who the hell would be coming to the door that early. He didn't have anyone coming that he knew of, the plumber was coming later on in the week, but who else would come that early? Then it dawned on him, and he jumped out of bed – throwing on his jeans from the night before and a t-shirt from under his clothes the day before as he headed out down the hallway. There were only two people that would show up at his apartment at nine, without calling, or telling him that they were going to show up. Those two were Cyrus, and his father – neither of which he wanted Liv to meet. Especially in a silk teddy covered up with a bathrobe.

"Liv," He called as he hit the hallway, but he was too late, and his father was standing just inside the door, "Dad? What're you doing here?"

He could see the eyes his father had on Olivia – they were the same eyes he had whenever he was near any sort of at the least vaguely attractive woman, and it made Fitz sick to his stomach. He went over and stepped between Liv and Gerry, not so obviously that Olivia would be pissed off or ask about it later, but enough to redirect his father's attention. He reached back, and took Liv's hand, which she allowed. He glanced over his shoulder, and noticed that she looked at least a little bit sketched out, and he rolled his eyes as he turned back towards his father. There was enough embarrassment in him to force him to wince slightly.

"I was just stopping by to check on you, boy," He said, "Cyrus mentioned your mother's not doing so well."

"I'm fine," Fitz said, making a mental note to 'thank' Cyrus later.

"Who's this?" Gerry asked, trying to step around him, and Fitz backed up so that he was standing right next to Olivia, his arm back around her waist.

"Dad, this is Olivia, my girlfriend," He said, then swallowed, "Livy, my dad."

"Girlfriend?" His dad's voice boomed right on through the whole apartment, and probably woke the neighbors.

"Yeah," Fitz said, pulling Olivia a little closer.

"Then I imagine your pain's being taken care of," Gerry winked at Olivia, and Fitz knew he had to get him out of there, immediately, "How long has this been going on?"

"Five months," Olivia answered, putting her hand over his on her hip.

"I'm sure you've got your photo op," Fitz said, "Be sure to send it right to all the newspapers, ok Dad?"

"That's not why I'm here, son," Gerry said, his tone changing to slightly more threatening, it was all in the undertones, "Livy, why don't you leave us to talk for a little bit.

He winked again, and Fitz was positive that he could have punched him square in the face. He even took a step up, but Olivia had read him like a book, and stopped him subtly. He took a breath, and Olivia very pointedly went up on her tip toes, and kissed his cheek before she walked away, towards the bedroom. Fitz nodded to his dad, and headed into the kitchen, assuming that Gerry would follow – and without even a word, he understood to. Fitz flipped on the coffee maker, and leaned back against the counter.

"I'd offer you something, but we haven't been up to cook breakfast yet," Fitz said, trying to sound civil.

"You two serious?"

"Yeah," Fitz shrugged.

"I think a girl like that could get me pretty serious, too," He said and Fitz flinched a little bit, rolling his eyes.

"She's smart," Fitz told him, and Gerry shook his head, "She's brilliant."

"Ah, not my type then," Gerry chuckled as he reached out and patted Fitz's arm, like he was trying to get him in on some joke.

"Why're you here, dad?" Fitz asked him.

"I just wanted to chat with you about our little deal," Gerry said it like it was casual, but Fitz's heart dropped.

"What do you want now?" He asked, "I've been living up to my end of the deal."

"You have," Gerry said, "Now I need something."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Happy New Year! Enjoy :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Twelve

**May, 2000**

Violet slipped into a coma about a week after Olivia had finished school for the summer. The nurse that was on that night called the apartment and woke them up at about two in the morning. They had spent the afternoon with her, and had just fallen asleep when the phone started ringing. She had jerked awake, and an inexplicable knot had formed in her throat and stomach. She looked up at Fitz in the darkness, an the look she could make out on his face told her that he knew it, too. She kissed his cheek, and sat up on the bed, switching the light on as Fits rolled over to get the phone on the other side of the bed. By the time they had thrown their clothes on and rushed over to her house, her vitals were dropping. Olivia could see her frail little chest rise and fall as Fitz sat by her bedside. She sat on the couch, her hand on his shoulder. Bailey's breathing was so labored that Olivia could hear it getting shallower, and shallower. She went over and sat on the arm of his chair, her arm around him - not bothering to wipe his tears away.

Slowly, she stopped breathing and the nurse edged in on the other side of the bed, and checked for a pulse. Fits buried his head into her shoulder, and she wrapped her arms around him, to hold him as he started to fall apart in her arms. She stroked his hair down the back of his neck, and she watched as the nurse gave her a solemn nod, then backed slowly away from the bed, and out to make whatever calls she had to make. Fitz tried for sniffle himself together an pulled his head up to look at her. She reached behind an cleared off his face so she could look into his eyes.

"You get to cry as much as you want," She had told him, knowing that she had needed to hear that, and had been told quite the opposite, "Like no one's looking, you got me?"

He didn't cry any further while they were there though, he let go of Violet's hand, and sat back. Like he was going into shock, and Olivia sat there, watching him. She kissed his hair, or stroked his back periodically, but she could see that the immediate reaction of years had fizzled into shock. He was trying to make sense of it all as he just kept staring at her. She wondered how long she should let him before she said something. She knew him enough to know that Sutton there was good, but if it went to long it would and could cause a lot of damage. She looked back and saw the nurse stand in in the doorway. She mouthed that the police and ambulance were there, so Olivia nodded. She got Fitz up so he didn't have to watch them move her, and brought him out to the backyard - out of the house. That was when the tears came again.

Now she was going over his black suit with a lint roller, trying to make sure it was clean and tidy. He had already worn it once that week. His father had demanded to be at the funeral, and there wasn't a possibility that Fits was going to let him anywhere near it. So, they had a fake funeral on Monday evening for the press to lurk outside of. She had stayed home for that occasion, and today, Thursday, was the real one. It was small. Her, Fitz, Violet's friends that she had played cards with, her little sister, and some of Fitz's cousins. This was going to be the real challenge. Fits was miserable, and while she was pretty sure he was all cried out, he had now taken to shuffling around and wallowing. She was just happy she had another two and a half weeks to get him back to a functioning level.

"Babe," She finished lint rolling, and went over to him, her handed rested up on the side of his face, "You have to go and get in the shower now, ok? Because we have to go in forty-five minutes."

"Ok," He said, and she kissed him quickly.

"When you're out, your suit's hanging in the kitchen."

Even with all his months of being able to prepare himself for this, Olivia was sure that he hadn't expected her passing to effect him this much. He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek and walked, in his zombie-like state back towards the bathroom. She had barely been able to feed him anything, he didn't have an appetite, but she knew that was normal. She still worried about him though, it took her a couple of days of getting him to eat a cracker or two before she finally got him to eat a bowl of macaroni and cheese. It had been the first thing she had eaten, too.

**January, 1991**

Olivia walked with a blanket over her shoulders, it had been a Christmas present, crocheted by her mother, as she wandered through the living room. It had only been a few days, and already the whole house seemed somber, and empty. The feeling that she was alone was overwhelming, she missed her mom. Her brain still hadn't fully grasped that she wasn't coming home from her trip yet, but on the occasion that it did, she couldn't control herself. She would just cry for hours, until she physically didn't have any left. Then she would just lay there, or sit wherever she was. She had no idea how she was going to get through the Memorial Service in the morning. They were burying a box. They didn't even have a body, it was just a casket that she had picked out. Her mother's friend Anna had brought her to it and they had put flowers, duplicates of pictures they had of her, and some little trinkets inside of it. Without telling her father, of course.

"I'm making dinner," Her father said as she walked in, he was stirring a pot, and staring at the back of the blue macaroni and cheese box.

Her mother used to add things in, like onion for extra flavor, or a little bit of garlic, or something. Her father wouldn't do that.

"Should be ready in a couple of minutes," His menacing smile was the first thing she saw as he turned around, and Olivia just sniffled in response - this seemed to make him angry, "Why are you crying? Again?"

"I can't help it," Olivia said, backing up slightly - the look on he father's face terrified her, "I miss her. I want her to come back."

"Well, crying isn't going to bring her back," He said forcefully, and she nodded, starting to cry a little harder, "She's dead, Olivia. Dead. I couldn't bring her back even if I wanted to."

She adjusted so that her sobs were silent, and he turned back around. If she backed up slowly enough, maybe he wouldn't hear her leaving, except she wasn't quiet enough. Or maybe she was too quiet, and that was why he turned around, setting two bowls down on the kitchen table. She was still backing up.

"You have to eat something, isn't Mac'n'cheese your favorite?" He said as if he were talking to a complete moron, she could tell she was crying harder again, "You can't not eat anything. Are you going to say anything?"

He grabbed her arm, and felt his fingers dig in to it, his anger and frustration coming out as he yanked her arm up. She yelled out in pain as the blanket fell off, and he threw her down into her chair at the far end of the table. He sat down across from her, and gave her that same menacing smile as she started to eat. She could feel hot tears rolling down her cheeks as she sat in front of the steaming bowl of noodles and orange cheese. Her mother had made her the same thing, with onions and ham the might before she left for her trip. Olivia started crying again, shivering now without her blanket over her. She looked over at him, scared to move as he ate, and then - Smack.

She heard the noise, and felt the stinging across her face before she really registered what was happening, and she got up. She went to run from the room, tears streaming and the side of her face on fire as she got up, but then there was a tugging on her arm. He had grabbed hold of it in that same strong grip, right on top of where he had before.

"Let go of me," She cried as he forced her back into her seat, hitting her again as he picked up the spoon and shoved it into her hand, "Don't touch me. Let me go. I'll be good, just let me go to my room. I shouldn't have come down here."

"You have to eat, Olivia," He said as he guided her hand, stuffing her mouth with food.

"Let go," She cried even though she knew it was useless as he loaded her spoon up again.

He forced her to sit there until the food was gone, which she caught on to, and started cooperating. It wasn't til the next morning when she woke up to him putting breakfast on her nightstand that and semblance and sanity had come back to his face.

"I'm sending you away to school..."

Olivia waited for him to say something else, to yell or get mad again. She braced herself to be slapped again, but nothing ever came. By the time she looked up and around her room, he was gone. Her skirt suit that one of the housekeepers had brought her shopping for was hanging on her dresser, and she rolled out of bed for what was the hardest, and longest day of her life thus far.

**May, 2000**

"Liv?" Fits was standing in front of her, offering up his neck, with an undone tie on it.

"Ok," She said, reaching out and tying it for him.

"Are you alright?" He asked a little shakily as she fixed it into the collar on his shirt, "You're crying a little bit."

"Yup," she said, going over to the mirror to dab the tears away, around her make up, "Do you want me to drive?"

"I'll be ok on the way there," He replied, putting his arms around her from behind, "I just might not be on the way back."

"I can drive us back."

After they had buried her, Fitz started to bounce back a little bit, which only confirmed to her that just having the feelings was better than bottling them up. His grief started to slowly evolve into what she knew he thought would be his immediate response. He was rebounding slow, but she knew he would be almost back to normal by the time she had to go back to DC at the end of June. In fact, he might be quasi-ok for about a week before she left. He went back to work the Monday after the weekend, and she decided she was going to get a jump on the books that she wanted to read for the summer. So, she went out into the shared backyard, musing over what she would make him for dinner, see what she could get in his stomach while his appetite was back. She didn't even notice the car that was parked on the side.

"Good afternoon, honey," She heard Big Gerry's voice, it came out like he was holding up a megaphone as she sat up, ready to flee.

"Hey, Gerry," She said as she sat up, crossing her legs and looking him right back in the eye.

"My boy doesn't really talk to me," He said, "But I assume you have better methods of getting things out of him. How's he doing?"

"A little bit better," Olivia replied, stopping before mentioning that he had gone back to work.

"Good," He said, backing off a little as he went and sat in the next chair over, "I just wanted to have a chat with you."

"About what?"

"Fitzgerald 's career, and what you're going to do to it," He said, "If your relationship continues, it's going to come out and we know how the press is going to sway on this. No offense, honey, because you seem like a sweet girl, but you're too young for Fitz. You're what twenty? All the papers will talk about is how he's shacking up with some young coed. It won't be pretty, and it won't be nice- what he needs is a pedigree, and if you, like I'm assuming you don't, don't have one - you're not going to be of any use to him -"

"Olivia?" One of Fitz's neighbors – Lyyn – a woman of about forty who lived in the next apartment over with her three year old son called over from near the parking lot, "Is everything ok?"

"Yeah," She called back.

"Would you mind coming and watching Andy for a minute while I'm bringing in the groceries?"

"Sure, no problem," Olivia got up and went over to her like Gerry wasn't even there.

She put on a good show about it not bothering her, but the words were echoing in her head as she chased Andrew around the backyard with Andrew. He was a cute little kid, from what she had gathered, the mom had left his father – abusive – a couple of months ago, and was living next door with the boy. Her parents were helping her out until she got back up on her feet. She and Fitz had babysat him a couple of weeks ago, her offer. And, seeing Fitz with such a little kid was absolutely adorable. However, not even Andrew's cuteness, and the thoughts of Fitz with a toddler, weren't enough to knock what Gerry had just said out from rolling around in her head. Who said stuff like that to someone?

It wasn't like she thought Fitz thought highly of what his father thought. She knew in her head to take his comments with a grain of salt. It was just hard when it was so blunt like that. Andrew ran over towards the swings, and she sat down on the bench, watching him from a far and zoning out. Fitz didn't want a career in politics, it wasn't like if she really was a problem to his career he would mind it. But then, was that the real reason that he didn't want her to meet his father and Cyrus? Because he knew that they wouldn't approve, and that it might make things more difficult for him? But that didn't make sense either, because he never seemed to have a problem with arguing or upsetting them. Then why? Was his father just coming out of left field, or was there something to it? And what did it matter if his political career - This was ridiculous there was no way that his political career was going to plummet just because he was dating her. But then, he hadn't ever brought her to anything…

"Liv," Andy called as he pushed the empty swing, "Can I push you?"

"You want to push me?" She teased him as she walked over, and picked him up, putting him onto one of the swings, "How about I push you? Hold on tight, ok?"

"Otay," He said, kicking his legs mindlessly as she pushed him gently.

Gerry had gotten up and left when she had walked away, and she hoped to God that he wouldn't be back. Olivia pushed Andrew on the swing, until he had had enough, and then chased him around the yard to the sandbox. In a weird way she was kind of glad that she didn't have time, or silence, to fully process what had happened. She resolved, as Lynn came back out to collect Andy, she assumed for lunch, that it was best to try and forget about it until Fitz got home. She didn't want to sit there and let it turn around and around in her head.

"Thanks," Lynn said as she walked over, scooping Andy up and onto her hip.

"Thank you," Olivia replied, and Lynn kind of chuckled.

"I can recognize a girl in need," She said, adjusting Andy on her hip, "Who was that guy anyway?"

"Fitz's dad," Olivia replied quickly, off the cuff like it wasn't really a big deal.

"Fitz is such a good guy," She said, complimenting Olivia, "Makes me start to think that not all guys are really psychopaths."

"Not all, just a vast majority," Olivia smiled at her as they headed for the door.

"I wanted to thank you again for watching Andy the other night for me," She said as they paused in the hallway, and Olivia shrugged.

"It was no big deal," Olivia smiled, "It was kind of fun to see Fitz with a little kid. We're both only children, so there's no younger siblings or anything…"

"Shame, he's really good with them," Lynn replied, "Gives Andy a little glimpse of a real guy."

"You're doing just fine, Lynn," Olivia smiled at her as they split off to head into their different apartments.

Fitz had given her a key months ago, and with the blanket her mother had made her folded up and on the back of the couch, she liked it there. She felt at home there, with him, and that wasn't something that she a had felt in an extraordinarily long time. There was no way that she could see giving that up, and she was trying not to think about not having a choice in the matter as she walked into the kitchen and started looking around at what he had – trying to figure out if she could cook him something with a little more sustenance than Macaroni and a near cheese-like substance that he would eat. That was when she remembered him explaining to her why he referred to her as his angel. What he had said about how much he loved her, and how he knew that he couldn't do half the things he was without her on his side.

"Good evening, Angel," He said as he walked in, she was sitting on the couch – wrapped up in her mom's blanket, playing solitaire on the coffee table.

She had dinner almost ready, all comfort food, this time with a little protein and actual nutrients. He sniffed the air.

"Are you cooking me dinner?" He asked, sitting down with her, putting his arms around her and pulling her back.

"Shepherd's Pie," She told him, and he nodded with a huge smile on his face as she snuggled in closer against him.

"What's up?" He asked, kissing the top of her head.

"Are you ashamed of me, somehow?" She asked him, looking up so she could read his face.

There was no way he was going to answer truthfully if the answer was indeed 'yes', but she was confident that she would be able to read him on it. She would know if he was telling the truth or not.

"No," It came out as a knee-jerk reaction, too quickly for him to have lied about it, "I'm proud of you, you're way out of my league, and brilliant –you're going to do amazing things, and I'm just hoping that you'll still keep me around to love you like I do. What – Why are you worried about that? If there's anything to be 'ashamed' of here, it's that I'm not nearly adequate to…"

"Ok," Olivia said, stopping him, leaning up and kissing his cheek.

"Livy, why would you ask me about that?"

"I was just wondering," She told him, getting up and heading for the kitchen, "Dinner should be done now."


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: So, including this one, there's only four more chapters in part one… then we move to part two, and it gets a whole lot less happy-go-lucky….. Enjoy my friends :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Thirteen

**August, 2000**

Olivia had been spending the whole summer trying to spend the least amount of time at home as she possibly could. With Fitz in California, that meant that she was just throwing everything she ha into her internship. She was one of the first people there in the morning, and she was among the last people leaving at night. This little habit that she was developing had gotten her more than noticed by everyone else around the office. It started with little teases here and there, and then they started to respect her. They trusts Her when they were all chatting around th office, an included her in the little pranks that were fling on. It hand been long before they started asking her to look things over for them, even Senator Fuller himself. She was pulled out of getting coffees by July, and was put in Fuller office a his assistant ha gone on maternity leave. That's what normal senators who didn't have a Cyrus had, assistants.

"Good morning, Liv," Fuller said with a friendly half smile as he walked up to her desk, "How are you this morning?"

"Good, Senator," She said with a smile as she took the Schedule she had written up for him off the top of her desk and handed it to him, "You have a breakfast this morning with the governor, and then there's a hospital opening, and the team and I thought it did be good for you to stop by. Your public opinion has been running a little low. Stopping by a new hospital might help you out. Then you have lunch.."

"We have lunch," He corrected her as he was looking down at the Schedule, "Most of the time you're here with the research team, but you're here to learn about lawmaking., right? So, I'm going to take you with me. You've been an amazing hand around here, I can see you going very far here."

"Really?" Olivia said, any sort of business poker face gone.

"Absolutely," He said, and Olivia nodded, "And Beth wanted me to thank you for both of us. You've been getting me home to her quicker than I ever have. And the state's running great."

"That's what I'm here for, right?"

"It is," Fuller nodded as he tapped his fingers on the top of the desk. I'm going to have you run over and see how the research team is fair in with their load. Tell them I'm going to need these numbers too. Tell them sorry for the late notice, too."

"It's not a problem, I'm sure we can find them for you," She said as she took the post-it that he was handing her.

"And be her by noon - We can drive over to lunch together."

"Sounds good," Olivia said as she got up and started heading towards the small cubicle arrangement that the research team inhabited.

"Oh, good morning, Liv," Caitlyn said as Olivia handed the new list from Fuller to Greg - the leader of the group.

"Morning," Olivia smiled, greeting them both at once.

"...anyway like I was saying, now the governor's going to have to clear it up."

"Why don't people understand that this is a job? That at the end of the day, we go home and are normal people?"

"Because they're supposed to be above the fringe," Olivia said, falling into a chair, and they all nodded.

"When does he want these by?" Greg asked as he rolled back, away from his computer.

"I'm assuming either noon, or the end of the day," Olivia said, taking a deep breath as Caitlyn passed her a book, "But I'm going to say noon, he has a luncheon. That I get to go to."

"You're going to be bored out of your frickin' mind," Caitlyn said, "It's the first Friday of the month. It's the shit show-"

"Don't scare her, Cate," Greg scolded as he scribbled something down on his notepad, "It's great that you're invited to it, Liv. You'll learn a lot - just make sure you have a coffee."

"You two've been?"

"Oh, no," Caitlyn shook her head, "You have to be invited. We just know what we do from rumors and things."

"You're scaring her," Greg warned her without looking up.

That was the end of their gossip and conversation, which resulted in them buckling down to find the demographic numbers that Fuller wanted. She had the very distinct feeling that Fuller wanted them for the luncheon, for something he wanted to do. It only took them a couple of hours to get everything that he had asked them to fund in the past forty-eight hours. They handed her all the notes they had gathered up, and she looked at her watch. Fuller would be back from making a quick trip over to the hospital. She said goodbye and farewell to them as she head back through the hall and up the stairs to her desk, right before the door to Fuller's office. It was open, so she walked in cautiously.

"You got everything? Already?" He asked as she put the folder down on his desk.

"Yup," She said and he nodded, "Greg and Caitlyn were right on it, I helped out."

"You always do," He replied, taking a deep breath, "Let me just give this a once over, then we can head out."

"Sounds good."

She was only sitting at her desk for a couple of minutes before he came back out of his office, swinging his car keys around his finger. They barely chatted during the drive, she was looking over some documents for him, proofreading and trying to see of there were any glaring problems with his speech for the next day while he drove, and had the radio going. She looked up, and wasn't the least bit surprised, that he parked outside on of the most prestigious restaurants she had even heard of. He shut off the car and she left the speech in his briefcase as they headed inside.

"Just keep your head up, and you'll be ok," He told her, opening up the door for her, "It's just a lunch we have in the back room here the first Friday of the month. Who ever's in town comes, we talk about policies, and ideas. Things like that. It's any senator, it's sort of a bit partisan thing within a group of people. Keeping things in perspective. Therefore this is when we talk Princess Politics. Stuff that's obvious."

"Gotcha," Olivia said as he nodded to the hostess, then led her directly to the back room, closing the door behind them.

"Hey, everybody," He said with a little smile as he walked over to throng table, and she went and sat down next to him, "Hope you don't mind I brought a plus one. This is Olivia Pope, my intern and assistant. She's great, so I thought I'd bring her along. A new face."

Olivia looked down the table and saw several faces she recognized, then looked directly across from her and seeing Fitz, smiling across the table at her. Her eyes bugged out for a second. What was he doing here? He hadn't told her he was coming this weekend, yet there he was, sitting across the table from her in a room full of other senators. Olivia's mouth went agape for a second, then reached out and picked up her water glass. She was pretty sure that no one else had noticed, but Fitz was chucking, if not audibly then he was doing it in his head.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Pope," Senator Margaret Giath said, smiling at her down the table.

"You too," Olivia said in response, as Fuller put his feet onto the table.

"No," Fitz said, looking straight at the folder, "We're all starving. We're eating first. No shop talk until after the food's on the table."

"I second Flyboy," Senator James Ford said, and Olivia just was sitting back.

"Fine," Fuller said as the menus started being passed around.

Just after they had put their orders in, Olivia excused herself from the table, and the questionable awkwardness that was her and Fitzgerald exchanging looks. She went back to the bathroom on the other side of the restaurant. Like she had actually been able to get the message across to him that they needed a powow, on her way back to the room Fits was standing near the window by the bar. He dropped his phone from his ear as she walked over to him, and he hung out up. He smiled at her, giving a quick look behind her back before kissing her forehead.

"Suprise?"

"You didn't tell me you were coming this weekend."

"It was supposed to be a surprise," He told her, leaning in and kissing her quickly, "I missed you. I haven't seen you in a week. I wasn't expecting you to be here, I was thinking I could very 'cooly' hanging out by your car when you came out. But, instead, you came with Fuller. Which just means I get to see much sooner."

"So what do we do, Handsome?" She asked, as he shifted a little closer – she wondered if he knew he was doing it.

"We could just go back and make out in front of everyone," He teased, and she rolled her eyes, "I wasn't serious."

"I know," She said, as he brought his hand up to her cheek softly.

"But we could just tell them," He said, and she shook her head.

"I don't want everyone to know about us yet," She said, and he nodded understandingly.

"Well, I've pretty much failed protecting you from dad, and that was the main goal," Fitz said, soflty, "You haven't had to run into Cyrus yet, but there's only so long I can manage that one."

"I don't want it to come out today," Olivia said, and Fitz nodded again, "Just try not to look at me. They'll know something's up if they see you looking at me like you do."

"Well I don't think I can ignore you," He chuckled as she took a deep breath, "But I will try. But you're going to owe me later."

He smirked, she smiled – unable to help it.

"If you can pull this off, I will more than owe you," She said, leaning up and kissing him, not quite as quickly as she should have, but she wanted to give him a little taste of what to expect later on.

"Ok," He said with a little sigh, and she smiled.

"And no being cute," She said pointedly and he shrugged.

"I can't help you there," He shrugged as he took a deep breath, "But Fuller doesn't get impressed easily. Believe me. It's telling everyone in that room that you're absolutely brilliant – obviously."

"How long were you out here?"

"About ten seconds," He said, "Before you came out."

"Ok, I'll go back in – wait a few minutes after I go in before you follow," She said, and he nodded.

"Ok, but if I happen to drop something under the table, and your legs are-"

"Fitz, you're making a joke out of this."

"Oh, it's kinda fun," He said, pushing part of her hair back behind her ear, kissing her forehead, "Don't worry so much, ok? You're obviously doing an amazing job. You looked like you were going to be sick in there."

"That's because I wasn't expecting you to be there."

"My fault," He teased, "What time do you get out tonight?"

"Five," She replied, and he nodded.

"I'll see you then, then."

Olivia nodded. She wanted to take a step forward, and let him wrap his arms around her. Her nerves had calmed down a little bit enough to enjoy the fact that he was there. That she could reach out and touch him, kiss him. She could, technically, she could press him right up against the window, feel his hands running up and down her body as freely as he wanted. She could feel his tongue playing around with her's – She took a deep breath, pouting slightly. The look on his face made her crack a smile, because she could tell he knew exactly what she was thinking, especially when he turned around and looked at the window for a second. She took the opportunity to go in the opposite direction, shooting him a coy look as she headed back into the room with everyone else.

They seemed to be getting away unscathed, and that was even with slight interactions. They were discussing some long time off bi-partisan effort to give children living in poverty different ways to stay on the same playing field as other children of middle class households. They seemed to be on the very early stages, and as they were arguing over what to include, and what not to include – she was starting to see another side of Fitz. He was strong, and clearly opinionated, believing what he was saying. Was it weird that she kind of liked this side of Fitz? Because she was having a hard time not being the one to let the cat out of the bag. He nodded in a agreement with Fuller, and then shot Olivia a look. She remembered to look away.

"Liv," Fuller said, and the whole table went quiet, Olivia could help but see out of the corner of her eye that one of Fitz's eyebrows momentarily went up, "What are you thinking? You haven't really been talking."

"I think you have to be careful with this," She said, looking specifically at Fuller, "I think we need to focus on getting them things for school, and being able to learn. Food, the basics. The American public is going to be happy about this, but you guys are going to have to put this together well. The last thing we need is for kids that are already falling through the cracks to fall further as we lift up _some_ of the others."

"Which is why I think it should be relatively minimal," Fitz piped up, "Something we can build on later. Start with making sure that kids are getting food, pencils, warm enough clothes to sit at the bus stop. Make school worth their while. The problem right now is a lot of them are dropping out of school as soon as they can. If we can get this into law, and in the process make school something they can look forward to…"

"A lot of districts already have programs for food and clothing," Fuller contradicted him, "This has to be more than that…"

Olivia then watched as Fitz and Fuller went back and forth for nearly the remainder of the 'meal'. Eventually, the waitress came in to bring the check, and Ford picked it up. Then they were leaving, talking to each other. She was walking behind Fuller, and Fitz very casually fell into step with her. They got out to the parking lot, and Fuller's phone went off as Ford and Giath left for their cars. Fitz stayed, making useless 'get to know you' small talk with her, while she had her back to Fuller and was almost dying with inward laughter. He was doing this on purpose – while Fuller had stepped aside to answer the phone.

"Jen broke her arm at school," Fuller rejoined them, "I can drop you off at the office. I'm going to be out the rest of the day, you can go home once you tell them all I won't be back in."

"You should go," Fitz said, "What's she? Ten now? I can give Olivia a ride back to your office. You should get to Jen."

It was weird actually hearing him call her Olivia.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I don't really have much else on my schedule for the afternoon," Olivia was looking at Fitz, and he gave Fuller a weird look.

"Yeah, sure – thanks, Fitzgerald."

"No problem," Fitz said, maybe a little too happily, and Fuller walked away.

"Where'd you park?" Olivia asked him as they headed off in the other direction.

"Over here," He said, hitting unlock on his keys, he paused, "How'd I do?"

"Excellent," She said as they climbed into the car, and Fitz looked over at her.

"He has a thing for you," He said, and Olivia raised her eyebrows, "I'd say an innocent one though, for now. I'm not sure he's even admitted it to himself."

"Who?"

"Fuller," He said, and Olivia furrowed her brow.

"Fitz, he has a wife. I'm friends with her…"

"You know ninety percent of the reason I was able to not give us away," He said, "I was too busy watching him watch you. And let me tell, ya."

"You have a very active imagination," Olivia told him, reaching over and stroking the back of his hair as he pulled out of the parking lot, "He's married."

"That doesn't mean much too many here," He said, putting his hand over on her knee.

"What about you?" She asked, and he shook his head.

"Liv, you might as well have me staked up in the backyard. I just wish there was a 'beware of dog' sign in the window."

"Fitz," She said.

"I know, it's up to you when we come out to the public," He said, taking a deep breath, "But if you're still thinking you want it to stay as it is now, you're going to have to give a little with my own, very human, very male jealousy."

"I think I can do that," She teased him.

"But, I was thinking that I'd absolutely love to take you to this ball, December First," He said, and she looked over at him, "I know I said I didn't want to put you in the light before you were ready…"

"I'll think about it," She told him, and he smiled.

"I'll take it," He said as he pulled into the parking lot to her office, and brought her right up to the door.

She ran in and closed up everything she was working on, told people what had happened, and why Fuller wouldn't be back for the rest of the day. She stopped, putting her office key into her purse as she thought about what Fitz had said. He was just being stupid, right? A moderately jealous closeted boyfriend who had just had to sit there and pretend he didn't know her while her friend and boss and she were able to have a normal friendly relationship? It didn't help that her boss was a man, and she assumed she would feel similarly if it were the same situation turned around. She pouted slightly, she would just have to make it up to him for the weekend that he was there with her. She couldn't wait until she was back at school. She had taken it for granted then that he was just about forty-five minutes away whenever she had wanted or needed him.

He took her directly to his hotel room, where they cuddled and kissed –made out - the afternoon away. It was simple, and innocent. They had missed each other, and she was entirely content just lying there in his arms – occasionally kissing down the side of his neck, running her hands over his chest, and abs. He just held her there. Just being there with each other, talking and catching up – it was nice to be able to talk freely to him about how ragged she was starting to feel. She worked all the time, and avoided going home as much as possible. She walked into the house, went to her room, and passed out in her bed before waking up the next morning to do it all again.

"I can try to get here more often."

"Fitz, you're here almost every other weekend as it is."

"Well, I miss you – all the time," He said, kissing the side of her head as he tightened his grip on her, "But it sounds like this is a well-earned, and well deserved down time."

"Mmm, Handsome," She mumbled as she kissed him.

"My father called, that's who I was on the phone with at the restaurant," He said, "He wanted me to meet him for dinner – I told him I already had plans."

She smiled.

"Which means, we should get up and get ready for dinner," He continued, "Because we have reservations."

"Oh we do?"

"Well, my original surprise was ruined, so I had to adapt," He said, and Olivia smiled.

She was about to lean in and kiss him again when she paused – her phone ringing from her pocket. She leaned in and gave him a peck, instead of the long, passionate one that she had been planning on as she took it out of her pocket. She flipped her phone open to look at the caller ID, and she knew that he could read the 'Dad' on screen too. She took a deep breath, and then hit the 'end' button long enough for her phone to shut off.

"Really?" He asked and Olivia nodded – she wasn't about to make him feel less important than another guy in her life for the second time that day.

"I want to go to dinner with you," She said pointedly, "He's got to learn that he can't just go summoning me as he pleases. He can leave a message."

"You should call and let him know you're ok."

It wasn't as if this had anything to do with her safety. Her father was a small man, this was the joy of power and nothing else. The knowledge that he could call her at any point. It made her sick, and she would much rather spend the night, uninterrupted with Fitz. But Fitz didn't get that – when he was twenty, his father actually did care if he was safe. Even if it was just because he wanted him to carry on the name. Her father didn't care about that. Fitz was playing the concerned boyfriend that knew at some point he was going to have to meet this guy that happened to be her father. She knew it was juvenile, but she was sort of hoping he would die first – who knew what his blood pressure was like these days.

"I'll leave a message on the answering machine at home, once we're in the car," Olivia said, and Fitz nodded.


	14. Chapter 14

What Could Have Been

Chapter Fourteen

**August, 2000**

Olivia called her house and told her father via answering machine that she was fine, but that she probably wouldn't be home until late that night. He drove her out to a restaurant a little away from the main drag, and had them at a table that was towards the corner and out of sight. All this time they had been kind of hiding in plain sight. It was only when they were in DC and surrounded by politicians and reporters that they had to be a little more aware of their surroundings. He couldn't wait until the cat was out of the bag, though. He was so in love with her, he could only imagine the sorts of things he could bring her to, real vacations, like trips. Show in up at dinners and balls with the most beautiful, the most intelligent, woman in the room on bis arm. Everyone would know she wasn't available in the least, and as far as he was concerned she wouldn't be until he was six feet underground. He could spoil her better. Meet her father, and rake their relationship the whole way through. He didn't want Olivia under wraps, he wanted a life with her. But he was going to have to wait until she was ready, and while she wasn't he was going to protect it as a secret with everything that he had.

"You're really attractive when you get all angry debate guy," Olivia commented as they ate their rolls that the waiter had dropped off, "I don't think I've seen that side of you before."

"You'll only see it if you watch my debates or something," He replied, and Olivia nodded.

"You're good at convincing people," She continued, and he nodded.

"Makes me good at politics."

"But you hate it," She said, and he nodded.

"I don't- Yeah, but for some people it makes more sense to do something, just because you're good at it over something else you would rather be doing. Squandering talent, is I think what my dad said to me once, when I told him I didn't want to go into politics."

**December, 1991**

Fitz was sitting on the living room couch at his father's house. He hadn't been there in years, since he had turned eighteen, and he no longer had to be there. He had just gotten home from his last stint in the Navy, and now he was sitting in his father's living room. He had gotten in over his head, and had gotten into trouble. He'd been home for about a week before his mother dragged him out of bed, and asked him what had happened. The Navy had covered it up, but it was only a matter of time before someone figured it out. Probably one of his father's political enemies. He got his orders, and he had carried them out. He didn't think, and should have – not that it would have done him much good. Since Vietnam, they had put in laws that said they could question their leaders, if they felt they had to. But he knew who his commanding officer was. If he had refused, he would have been sent on a suicide mission one, maybe two weeks later. And not to mention, there had been a bomb on its way to London.

"This is exactly why you should never have signed up for the Navy," Big Gerry said angrily, glass of scotch – as always - in hand, "Especially you – always trying to prove yourself, always making yourself seen. You shouldn't have been anywhere near black ops."

Fitz had been wrong, his father was running the committee that investigated it.

"I wanted to serve my country."

"You could have done that doing something else! You are the son of a Governor, Fitz. You didn't need to prove anything, to anyone," He said, "And now I'm stuck here, cleaning up your mess."

"I had an order."

"From Rowan?!" Big Gerry's face was nearly purple now, "Rowan is a snake, he would trade his own daughter for power. He would trade his own family to make sure he was 'protecting the republic'. Not to mention he's got a chip on his shoulder, he sees the name of a rich business man, and he's sending him right in for his life to be completely screwed up. It works out well for his job, God Dammit, Fitzgerald!"

"I was the best man for the job, that's why he-"

"He saw the son of a governor's name on a list of pilots, and he was getting even," Big Gerry nearly screamed, and Fitz raised his eyebrows.

"What do you mean getting even?"

"Rowan is a monster, he sees anyone more successful than himself to be lazy, that they were somehow helped more than he was," Big Gerry said, rolling his eyes, "Here's what we're going to do. You're going to run for Congressman.'"

"What ? No. I would never-"

"You squander your God given, genetic talent for politics. It's irresponsible," He spat, "It's juvenile not to grow up and realize that you were born to do something, even if it's not what you had in mind. Most of all it's selfish, is what it is. You're being the selfish little brat that I allowed your mother to turn you into."

"America means freedom to do as I please…"

"America means money, Fitzgerald," He corrected him, "It means power. You're spoiled, but you're not a moron."

"I…"

"I don't give a shit. You fucked up," Gerry yelled, "You're running for Congressman, and you will climb the ranks and run for President, do you hear me? A Grant will be President, or at least run for it. You do this, and your little Navy mission stays under wraps. No one knows that you were the dumbass who shot down a plane with three hundred and fifty people on it when there wasn't even a bomb."

"I was told…"

"You think they're going to give a shit what you were told? You think they're going to care about anything more than a Grant was the one who shot down a plane in allied airspace?"

"No," Fitz admitted, and Gerry shook his head as Fitz checked his watch, "I have to go."

"Where?"

"To catch my flight," Fitz said, getting up, "Rowan invited me to some sort of underwraps honors."

"Sign the book, but don't let him near you," Gerry went completely serious, not even yelling.

"Why not?"

"He ruins lives, and then buries the body – he's going to want to recruit you," Gerry took a drink.

"Recruit me for what?"

"It's not important," Gerry said solemnly, if Fitz could take a guess, it was extremely important, "You can't just blow it off. But if you think I'm the devil? I'm a saint next to Rowan."

"I'll steer clear."

**August, 2000**

"You're quiet this evening," Olivia said, calling Fitz back to the dinner table, because he had been dazing off a bit.

"I'm just thinking," He told her as he reached across the table and took her hand.

"What are you planning?" She asked him, she clearly knew him too well.

"Just something for later," He said vaguely, and she nodded.

Once their dinner set down in front of them, they sat in occasional conversation as they ate. Fitz took the time to plan out what they were going to do next. It. As such a nice night out, summer, and beautiful. They had already spent most of the day in bed, not that he was regretting it at all, but there would be plenty of time for that once the sun was down. He looked for her hand as they headed back out to his car.

"Before we go back to the hotel, can we go get my car?"

"Sure," He said.

"And I'll stop home, grab a bag and meet you there," She added, and he nodded again, "Where are you going?"

"Just a little detour," He replied as as he pulled off and up a side street until he stopped.

He watched as she looked out the window and saw the whole DC skyline. The messy, busy, dirty city that they both spent to much time in looked beautiful from up there. She smiled, and he could see her reflection as he leaned forward and kissed the side of her neck.

"It'll be great once we're both back in California," Olivia said, turning to look at him softly.

"Livy," He said as he squeezed her hand lightly, "This has been the best summer of my life."

"Even with flying back and forth all the time? You hate to fly..."

"It's worth it," He assured her as he leaned in and kissed her slowly, "Believe me, It's more than worth it."

They only stayed up there a couple of minutes before he drove her back down to her office parking lot so she could get her car. He kissed her goodbye, and then took off towards the hotel, stopping at the concierge desk to have him have someone deliver a bottle of red wine, their best bottle, up to his room in about two hours. He walked into the room, and sat down in the bed, waiting for her to knock on the door. Before he knew it, there was a knock on the door a, and the wine he had ordered was there. He was confused, he looked at the clock to realize that it really had been two hours, and put the bottle on ice.

Another ten minutes passed, and he was starting to get really worried. He went over and picked up his phone, it had started to rain outside, and he was starting to get a really bad feeling. He called her cellphone, but it just kept ringing until it hit her voicemail. He looked out the window, and thought for a whole minute about turning the TV back on, for the newest for any car accident reports. He decided that that wouldn't be a good idea. She was fine, she was just driving or something, didn't hear her phone ringing. He went and hopped onto the shower to take his mind off of it. If she still wasn't there by the time he got out, he was go out and see if he could find her.

He got out and there wasn't a missed call on his phone, or a knock on the door. He got dressed with the idea in his head that he would go and trace the route from the hotel to her house, and the go from there to the way to her work. He finished up and ran a comb through his hair. He was being ridiculous, she was Liv - she was fine. He threw on his shoes and opened up the door, heading down the hall as quickly as he could and hit the button for the elevator. The doors slid open right away, which surprised him - he went to get on and a blur of Olivia coming out.

"Whoa, hey," He said, catching he lightly in his arms as she stepped out into the hall.

Her make up was running, and her hair had curled up, like she had been standing out in the rain for a while. He held her at arm's length, looking her up and down, she sniffles a little bit - which answered his question about whether or not she ha been crying or not. He smoothed out her hair, or tried to with his hand, realizing that she had a cut up on her hair line, around it was starting to bruise up.

"Livy, what happened?" He asked as he pulled her in, then picked her up subtly and carried her carefully into his room, "I was just coming to find you. What happened to you, Angel? It's been hours..."

He cuddled her up on the bed, she was clearly really upset - crying into his shoulder. Holding her tight, he knew he had to get ice and something on her head, but he had to calm her down first. He kissed the top of her head as she was starting to calm down, and pulled a blanket up around them both. She shivered a little, then seemed to burrow herself in closer to him, so he held her just that much tighter. He pressed the side of his face against her shoulder, running little circles on her back until she calmed down. He waited a little bit longer, then tucked her all in with blankets, going over to the ice bucket. He poured her a glass of wine, and made her a makeshift ice pack to put on her head.

"Angel, what happened?" He asked leaving her with the ice pack as he stepped into the bathroom to grab the First Aid kit.

"I-" She started to answer him as he sat back down, pulling out a disinfectant wipe as he lifted the ice from her head, "I- Dad was home when I got there."

"He did this to you?" Fitz had to make sure his voice stayed even as his brain skipped to the next logical response.

He didn't care if he was her father or if he had no idea what he looked like and had never met the man. How could someone do something like this to - As soon as he got her to calm down and go to sleep h was going right over there and -

"We had a fight," She said, and Fitzgerald was just kind of frozen there in his anger, then realized he should move as he went back go cleaning up her head, "I had already packed up my bag. He saw me trying to leave. We were yelling, and no one ever wins when it comes to him. He didn't like that I blow him off earlier. I was upset when I left, and I wasn't paying attention. I slipped on the way back out to my car and I hit my head on th car door."

His anger faded almost instantly as he threw the wrapper to her band aid onto the trash, and sat her up. It had been a while since he had trained anyone, but his squad in the Navy had been required to know basic first aid. They had all complained and whined about it, but now it certainly was going to come in handy. He took her wine away from her, lucky she hadn't drank any yet.

"Here let me check you, real quick," He raised a finger in front of her face, bringing it across th front of he fax from right to left.

He waited to see her eyes flicker towards the middle, but she didn't. He did it again, and still there was nothing.

"Did you throw up?"

"No," She said as she leaned up and kissed him, "You're sweet, but I'm pretty sure I'm fine. I was just really upset. Dad always gets me so worked up."

"Well, I come prepared," He said as he handed her back her glass and standing up - throwing a bag of popcorn into the microwave, "Want me to go in ans talk to him when you home Sunday night?"

"He'll be fine by then," She said, sitting herself up a little more.

"Ok," He said as he got up and took her keys from the table, and the popcorn started popping, "I'm going to go and get your stuff. The popcorn should be up before I get back. You're ok?"

"I'll be fine, Handsome," She assured him as he kissed her forehead and headed out of the room.

"Be right back," He said.

He wasn't sure why, but he still had a weird feeling about her father. He didn't think that he had had any part in hurting her, he fully believed that she had slipped, he wasn't sure how she always managed to get around in the heels she always wore – and he had seen the slope on her driveway when he had picked her up and dropped her off a couple of times. He was just started to put the pieces of what she had told him about regarding her father. For the life of him, he couldn't imagine having a daughter that he treated so poorly. Of course, there were always two sides to every story, but some of the stuff – the impression that he got was not good. When he had kids, he wanted to be a 'daddy' not a 'dad' not a 'father' but a daddy. Not to mention he wanted to be 'daddy' to Liv's kids. He didn't want to be Liv's father, and he definitely didn't want to be his own. He shivered, he wanted his daughters to be able have their friends over, and his sons to be able to have their girlfriends over without feeling like they had to stand in between him and the girl at all times.

He walked back into the room with her bag over his shoulder, not minding the looks that he had gotten in the lobby. By the time he was walking in, she had fixed her hair, gone with just letting it all curl up – and had changed into a bathrobe, out of her wet clothes, which were hanging up near the radiator. He smiled as he dropped her bag over by them. She looked absolutely beautiful, he had to blink as she scooted up on her knees, right in the center of the bed. He smiled at her, going over and sitting on the bed, leaning against the head board, and she came over closer to him and he wrapped his arm around her.

"You ok?" He asked, kissing the side of her head.

"Yeah," She said, reaching for the bowl of popcorn that she had put on his stomach.

"Are you enjoying your popcorn table?' He asked, holding the bowl there for her as she snuggled up closer to him.

"Yes," She said, leaning over and kissing his jaw, "I _love_ my popcorn table."

"You're lucky you're beautiful," He said, playing with her hair, and she giggled as she left quite a few little kisses on the side of her neck, "So, just curious – you were soaking wet when you came in because you fell, right?"

"…Yes," Olivia said, and Fitz dropped an eyebrow.

"Liv, I walked to and from your car, and I'm not nearly as wet as you were," He said, setting the popcorn over on the bedside table, and pulling her in tight, "C'mon, you can tell me. What happened? It took you two and a half hours…"

"I told you, I got into a fight with my dad," She said, and Fitz gave her a strange look, "My dad's not a good guy."

"Neither is mine."

"Fitz," Olivia said, he knew it was her trying to end the conversation, but there was just something about the mention of her father that rubbed him the wrong way, so he looked at her waiting for her to continue, "We had most of the fight outside."

"It's pouring out – why would you do that?"

"Because my father has a flair for the dramatics," She said, "He'll argue with me out in the rain, telling me how ungrateful I am, and then he'll invite me in for cookies. He's a psychopath – tonight it was screaming out in the rain and then requiring me to have desert with him in the kitchen before I could leave – if I wanted to leave, and not argue for another hour. He's not like your dad. Your dad's predictable – he wants power, and he wants women, period. He's a twelve year old boy who never grew up and throws a hissy fit when his schemes don't get him what he wants. My dad – I don't even know what he wants. He's always changing his mind, he's always looking for something else, and nothing is good enough for him, ok? He fought with me in the rain because he was pissed off that I blew him off. And he didn't want to have dinner with me because he wants to know what I'm up to, catch up, and make sure I'm ok. He couldn't give a shit about that. He just needs me to be under his thumb - he needs someone that he can control, and manipulate just because he can – and that's been me, my whole life. Mom tried to protect me, and then she died, and…"

"Hey, hey, shhhh," Fitz could see her getting worked up again, and he turned on his side and pulled her up close to him, she put her face into the center of his chest, "It's ok, Livy. It's alright. You don't have to deal with him anymore, if you don't want to."

"What do you mean?" Olivia asked.

"I'm here an awful lot, I can get an apartment, and you can stay there until the summer's over," He said, knowing to phrase it carefully enough so that she might consider it.

"You're going to get me an apartment?" Olivia questioned him, looking up – and not looking too happy about it, clearly he hadn't phrased it quite cleverly enough, "Fitz, no. I have been dealing with my father my whole life – I can last another summer. I'm going back to school in three weeks, anyway."

"Ok," He said, kissing her forehead, "I was thinking about getting one anyway…"

"Fitz," She stopped him, putting a hand on his chest, firmly.

"Ok, stopping," He said, kissing her quickly, "Sorry."

"It's ok," She replied, snuggling her face back into his chest.

"I'm just worried about you," He said.

"I know," She replied, stroking down his arm, "You get it from your mom. But right now, it's getting late and I'm exhausted. Can we go to sleep now?"

"Absolutely," He replied.

"Or, we could not sleep for little while…"

* * *

A/N: So... hope you enjoyed the chapter :)


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Ah…. Enjoy? *Scared Smile*

What Could Have Been

Chapter Fifteen

**November, 2000**

Olivia had been acting strangely since about Thursday, and Fitz had been around her enough to know that when something was off, he was waiting. His job, he had surmised, was to be patient and loving while he waited for her to mention that something was bothering her, or something had happened. And, it usually worked out pretty well. She would eventually get so exhausted from holding it in, and keeping whatever it was to herself that she would break down and just tell him all about it. It was usually after dinner, when they were sitting by a fire in the living room, or at night when they went to bed. Usually, by the end of the seventy-two hours that he usually had her captive (figuratively speaking) she would tell him what was going on. This time, he wasn't so sure that she would, it was a different kind of funk that she was in. She was happy, and smiling, and then the second that they weren't doing something, or talking, or making out she was thinking – a lot. Too much, it had been that way since she had driven down to be there for the weekend Friday afternoon.

"Livy," He said on Saturday night as he walked into the living room – she was sitting on the couch, with a book by the fire.

"Mmm," She replied thoughtlessly as he sat down, "Yes, Handsome?"

And she was calling him that, way more often than she usually did, not that he was about to complain. That was more of a sign that she was letting herself bond to him more? Right? He figured it might also have to do with the amount of intimate time that they had been spending together since she had arrived back in California and was now once again a short drive away most of the time, instead of a four hour plane ride where he lost an hour. He laid down across the couch, putting his head on her lap, and his feet by the other arm rest.

"You have classes on Monday, right?" He said, figuring that talking about something relatively happy – like the upcoming break, which they were spending entirely together might brighten her spirits, "Is there any way that I could get you to ditch them and stay home with me? I have the whole week. We can sleep in, and then sit here by the fire, watch movies – snuggle…"

"I don't think so, Fitz," She said, and he narrowed his gaze.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't think I'm going to be able to stay for Thanksgiving, anyway."

"What do you mean?" He asked, sitting straight up, his arm on the back of the couch, watching her – waiting for her to answer.

"I got a letter from my dad on Friday morning," Olivia explained, looking at him with a face that told him she was not at all pleased, "A plane ticket to DC for Tuesday morning. I called him, and there's no way out of it. I don't have an excuse this year. I'm not studying for the LSATs, I already took them. My internship isn't going to save me, because they shut it down on Friday, and he knows that. He knows my semesters light on classes because of my internship, so – I don't have an excuse to stay. He's summoning me back to DC."

"I'll come with you," He said, without really giving it any sort of thought whatsoever, "I'm not going to let you have to sit through a Thanksgiving dinner with just your father. I might not get my same Livy back when you get back. It's about time I met your father, anyway – we should just bite the bullet."

"Seriously?" Olivia asked.

"Well, you agreed to go to the Senate Christmas Ball with me in December," He said, "Shouldn't I meet him before we go public, anyway?"

"You should," Olivia said, slowly, and he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"C'mon, it'll make it so much easier for you," He said, "I'll stay at a hotel, so if it gets to be too much you can escape, and I'll be a buffer. C'mon. Your dad won't be too bad if he's just meeting me, will he?"

"You've clearly never met Eli Pope," She said, rolling her eyes.

"No, but I should," He said, pulling her over onto his lap, and kissing her head, "I know he's not really a father figure to you, he's in no way 'daddy', but that doesn't mean we have to be the same way back."

"He's not going to like you," Olivia said, and Fitz nodded, "He doesn't like anyone."

"That doesn't bother me as long as it doesn't bother you," He said, "I'm not going to run off and hide in shame because your dad doesn't like me, Liv. This isn't the fifties. Please? Can I tag along? I can probably still get a seat on the flight, if I'm really good – I can get one next to you. Or upgrade them…We'll figure it out."

"You're really going to…"

"You're not protesting?" He was genuinely surprised as she curled up a little bit, leaning her head against his chest.

"No," She said, shaking her head a little bit, and she sighed, "Against my better judgement, Dad's on his best behavior for holidays, usually. But if he doesn't like you, it doesn't mean a damn thing, ok?"

"Ok," He promised.

"I need you, Fitz," She admitted, a little more vulnerable than he was used to her being.

"I know," He told her, putting a hand on her back as he held her close, "I know, Angel."

Olivia seemed to cheer up a little bit after that. She wasn't as happy as she had been when they were planning their Thanksgiving together, but she wasn't moping, she was more at a neutral state. He was happy though, he knew that it was mostly nerves that had her so uneasy, so he spent a lot of the time just trying to keep her spirits up, and getting her to think about other things. Things like the Senator's ball, and the trip that he had been teasing he was going to bring her on over her winter break. In actuality, he was planning a little one – but he thought maybe if he made it seem like he was going to bring her all around the world, stopping in every country or something, she might be more willing to accept a cruise to Puerto Rico, or a trip to a singular country. She had said something about wanting to visit Alaska.

"What're you doing?" Olivia asked, she was so nervous about everything that she might have been shaking as they walked through the airport on Tuesday.

"I'm thinking," He said as they passed a burger chain on their way to the gate, "Do you want a burger or something?"

"No, I'm ok," She jittered as they got to their gate.

"Sit down," He told her, and she gave him a defiant look, "Livy…."

"Ok," She said, sitting down and he sat down next to her, putting his arm around her, and kissing her temple.

He kept his arm around her until she stopped jittering.

"It's going to be fine," He told her carefully, kissing her cheek, "I'm not saying it's going to be good, but you'll make it, I promise. You're acting like you're marching into your death. If there is one thing I can promise, it's that I'm not going to let him upset you, I swear."

"I don't need a hero, Fitz."

"I know. That's not going to stop me from trying."

"Ok," She breathed, rolling her eyes at him playfully, and he chuckled. She leaned in and kissed him, "Thank you, for this."

"You're thanking me for what?" He asked her, "Livy, I love you. We're going and spending Thanksgiving with your father."

"But we had it all planned. Just the two of us."

"And that would have been great," He assured her, "But I don't mind tagging along. It's not like you really had a choice, from what I'm gathering, he might have shown up and crashed ours."

"Oh, that would have been such a better idea," She mused as they called their plane to board over the loud speaker.

"Next time," He said, getting up and helping her back to her feet.

Fitz managed to get Olivia to calm down enough, and that's when he realized just how much it had been exhausting her. She passed out next to him, her head on his shoulder and he figured that was as good a time to reach down into his bag and get the meds that his doctor had helped him pick out for his anxiety in flying. One to three of those, and he was out for the whole flight to DC. It was how he had managed to get to her so often over the summer. He had talked to him about getting something for years, but he had never been traveling by plane often enough to really put a lot of thought into it. Then, he didn't really want to get a prescription, probably something to do with Big Gerry's rambling about antidepressants and things, but he had been able to find him something similar that was over the counter. At one point, he had felt more comfortable in the air than he had on the ground – those days had stopped rather abruptly about the time he had left the Navy.

"Fitz," Olivia was shaking his arm to wake him, "Fitz, we've landed. Are you ok? I don't think I've ever seen you…"

"I'm fine," He said, blinking so that his eyes adjusted, and he took a sip from a bottle of water in front of him, "You ready to get this show on the road?"

"I guess so," Olivia replied as he leaned in and kissed the side of her head as they were getting off the plane.

He woke up pretty sufficiently while they were waiting for the luggage to come around on the carousel. Otherwise he was going to make up some reason to have Liv drive, but he was fine by the time they were waiting on the curb for the rental. He could see Olivia starting to get worked up and nervous again, and he would have said something to calm her down, but he was started to feel the nerves he had been too busy trying to calm her down to deal with. He took a deep breath as he drove, trying to get a logical thought into his head, because all he could think about were all the little things that made him cringe that Olivia had told him about. There was no way this guy was actually that bad – he knew he would be bad – but the first time meeting someone new? He knew logically the man couldn't literally be Satan in the flesh, but he was having a hard time trying to remind his nervous system of that.

He took a deep breath – no one was going to like nervous him. He forced himself to calm down.

"Let's go over the basics again," She said as he went for the door handle – then paused, "His name is Eli, he will probably make you call him 'Sir' or 'Mr. Pope' or something. He's worked at the Smithsonian as long as I remember, and he loves talking about the exhibits for small talk."

"Gotcha," He said, and Olivia nodded.

"And remember, he doesn't get to scare you off."

"I think I can manage that much," He said, nodding as they stepped out of the car, nad headed towards the door – he reached for her hand, she gave it to him, with a little squeeze.

"You look much more collected than you did in the car," She commented, and he nodded.

"It's all my politician training coming in handy," He said, and she chuckled as led him right up onto the front porch.

"Well, it's doing you good," She replied as she knocked on the door.

It was only a few minutes before a man came and opened the door, and Fitz's face dropped. Maybe, just maybe her father was actually Satan, in the flesh. He was staring right into the face of Rowan. He realized his mouth was hanging open a little, his heart sinking in his chest, and snapped his jaw shut. There had to be a mistake, this couldn't be – The horror of the situation was only just starting to sink in as Rowan looked at him, square in the face. Sizing him up.

"Dad, this is my boyfriend, Fitz," Olivia said as Rowan stepped aside, and let them step in, Fitz hesitated – maybe a little too much, maybe it was noticeable, "Fitz, this is my Father."

There was no way in hell he was letting Liv stay there that night.

"Sir," He didn't want to sound dumb, nodding slightly at him.

"Eli will do just fine," Rowan said with a small smile, and Olivia raised her eyebrows.

"Ok," Fitz was a little fearful to say anything else, he thought it sounded high, but no one else seemed to.

"Well, come in, come in," Rowan said, he was wearing an argyle sweater, and Fitz just couldn't get it out of his head how wrong this all was, "Leave your coats by the door – the food's all on the table. You guys must be hungry – it's got nothing on what's up for Thursday, but it'll get some food in your stomachs."

He was already walking down the hall, and Fitz turned to Liv as they took off their jackets.

"What did you say he did again?" Fitz asked, and Olivia put the coats up on the hooks.

"He's a curator, he oversees all the Smithsonian museums," Olivia said, and Fitz nodded.

She had absolutely no idea who her father was, or what he really did. Fitz took a deep breath.

"You ok, Babe?" She said, "You look a little sick."

He recognized him, he knew he did.

"I'm fine," He sucked it up, and smiled.

"My dad's never let anyone in recent history where he let someone he didn't know call him 'Eli'," Olivia said, "My mother was just about the only one who got away with that…"

That's because this wasn't the first time they were meeting, and he was about a hundred percent sure that it was no where close to being a good thing that he was acting so friendly. And Olivia had absolutely no idea the monster that her father was, that he was not only Black Ops, but the go to Black Ops coordinator. That he ran missions that included all the things that the constitution didn't allow. But then again, how could he be surprised? Mafia princesses never knew what they were, why would a man who was essentially a Godfather sponsored by the United States Government's daughter be any different. He took a deep breath, and put a smile on his face. All he had to do was survive the next three days, and then he could take Olivia out of this. It was a miracle that she had even survived to adulthood. The gala, the boarding schools, the lonely, quiet nature – it all made sense now. He had sent her away because she would have figured it out. And we couldn't go having that. His controlling nature was now nearly fully explained, he was a man used to getting his way. Something Fitz knew all too well.

"You ok?" She asked, taking his hand, and he nodded.

"Yeah," He replied, letting her take the lead on into the next room.

"Fitz, where are you staying?" Rowan asked as they walked in, and he was uncorking a bottle of red wine.

"Ah, I was planning on a hotel… I usually stay at – "

"Don't bother," He said, with a smile he wasn't entirely sure was a real smile, "Stay here. You'll have to forgive me, I'm old fashioned – you'll have to sleep in the guest room, it's next to mine."

Oh God, he was going to kill him in the middle of the night. He was going to wake up with a knife to his throat.

"Oh, you don't have to put me up," Fitz said, catching a look at Olivia's surprised, but happy – she thought they were getting along, that 'Eli' liked him, and he would, too if he didn't know what he already knew.

"Nonsense, it's an empty room," Rowan said, and Fitz looked over at Liv, who very clearly liked the idea – he was trapped, and Rowan knew it.

"Alright," Fitz said, passing Olivia the peas.

"Good," Rowan gave that odd sort of smile.

Or maybe it was just the fact that Fitz had never dreamed of seeing one on his face that made it odd. For the next couple of days, he was nothing but polite and kind to him. He was waiting for the bomb to go off, but it hadn't yet. Maybe he was wrong, and Rowan didn't remember him. How many lives had the man ruined? Why would he ever be bothered to remember just one of them's name? He had to have authorized thousands of missions by now – it wasn't like, from what he understood, his was anything special. There was nothing memorable about one mission among thousands that murdered hundreds of innocent people. But then there were those moments, usually when Olivia wasn't looking that he would shoot him a look that let him know that he remembered him – but did he? He got his answer Thanksgiving morning when he arrived downstairs before Olivia.

"You really are your daddy's son, aren't you?" He said it like it wasn't a good thing, and Fitz understood that much.

"Well, it's much more likely that he had a few kids my mom wasn't any part of than the other way around," It had come out before he thought about it, and Rowan did not look amused.

The smiles, the cordial manners, they were gone.

"Come outside with me, Captain Grant," He said, yeah, he remembered, "Olivia might be up soon."

Fitz didn't see that he really had much of a choice, and followed him out into the backyard.

"You know, I never liked you," He said bluntly, and Fitz nodded, walking along after him, "I always thought you were a spoiled little rich asshole, who's mummy still wiped it for him, but I never imagined you would have this much gall. I didn't think you had the stones, the balls…"

"Rowan, I – "

"Eli, please," He said in a completely false friendly tone, "Men who trick my dauaghter into thinking that they love her get to call me Eli."

"I do love her," Fitz said, trying to get his wits about him, "I didn't know that she was your daughter. She's not very fond of you, and I haven't been able to get much about you out of her. And I have to be honest now I know, it doesn't really change the fact that I'm - "

"Going to leave her."

"In love with her."

"You're not, and you're going to leave her," Rowan said, and Fitz shook his head.

"Why would I do that? I love her, and she loves me. I don't see what – I would never hurt her like that," Fitz said, "And I have a feeling she's never going to hear about anything, because I don't think you want her to know what you actually do for a living. Because you would have told her by now if you did."

"Because you already have hurt her, way worse than just 'leaving her'," Rowan replied, "Or hasn't she told you yet how her mother died?"

"Some sort of accident."

"A plane crash," Rowan replied, and Fitz heart sank, "She sank to the bottom of the ocean with three hundred and forty nine other people. After a cocky Navy Pilot by the name of Fitzgreald Grant shot it down."

"You're lying," Fitz could hear his voice crack, pain in his chest like he couldn't believe because he knew he wasn't.

He remembered what his father had said about Rowan, that he would trade his family for just about anything. Fitz had thought her was exaggerating, but knew that if anyone was actually capable of killing the mother of their children – hiring a military hit – it was Rowan. He gulped, he could fix this. He would take Olivia away, she didn't have to know. He already ruined her life once, and he wasn't going to do it again. He was already carrying the guilt from this mission, what was more? He could safe Liv from her father, he just needed to get her out of there as soon as possible. He started heading up towards the house, but Rowan stopped him.

"Tell her whatever you want, make up something good. Make her hate you, or make her think of you as a tragic hero, and make her long for you. I don't care either way, you might though," He said, pulling him closer by the shoulder, "Or I will tell her a couple more details of her mother's death. Your involvement, namely. Or, of course you could take her and run, he'd let you convince her to run off. But I would find you both, and tell her anyway. Your choice, Handsome."

Fitz furrowed his brow.

"You look at me like I haven't known you've been dating my daughter for almost a year," He said, sounding like Fitz should have known it, like he was insulted, "I was surprised you were up to come along, you'd been hiding from me for so long."

"Fitz?" He heard Olivia call from up at the house, "Is everything ok?"

"Everything's fine," Rowan smiled as he threw a heavier than usual arm up around Fitz's shoulders, "Just guy talk, Olivia. We'll be up in a minute."

They started walking up as is, and Fitz heard him whisper.

"It's up to you."


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: So… Then I start writing part two?

What Could Have Been

Chapter Sixteen

**November, 2000**

Fitz and her father getting along was more than she could have imagined - and she was more than a little concerned about that. But maybe, and this was that train if thought that she was willing to believe, he recognized that Fitz was something good, and was trying to play nice. She had never known her father to be one to play nice, but she wasn't going to question it. She was a little worried about Fitz because he had been acting strangely since they got there, but she assumed that was mostly due to the fact that he was trying to not do anything that might upset her father. It wasn't at all an unreasonable plan of survival for the next day or so, so she really wasn't putting that much thought into worrying about it. Tomorrow night she would be back on a plane back to California, and he had a meeting on Monday, then he would be back on Tuesday night. They already had plans.

"What we're you two doing out there?" Olivia asked as they came traipsing into the kitchen from outside.

"Just went for a walk," Her father informed her, "Just a little private chat away from the girl."our

He said it as he walked away, she had just put the Turkey in the oven.

"You ok, Handsome?" She asked, running her hand through his hair, she knew her father could be a little intense.

She stepped up and wrapped her arms around his middle, pushing the side of her face into his chest. She could hear his heart beating, and it was a whole he'll of a lot faster than it usually was. She felt him very carefully put his arms around her too, and his chin fell onto the top of her head. His heart was still going quick - she stood there with him until it started to slow down, and she looked up at him. He had this solemn look, and leaned down to kiss her forehead quietly.

"Why don't we go out tonight, huh?" She said, fixing the curl in his hair, and then kissing him quickly, "We'll go out for drinks or something?"

"Sounds good," He said quietly, nodding lightly.

Thanksgiving dinner was sort of to be expected, with her father ruling over them, though surprisingly still in his weird good mood. It was quiet, except for when he was talking, or if he was directing questions at them. Just how her father liked it. Except this time it was like he had a list of them that he was running down. Like he looked up somewhere questions parents was supposed to ask their kids when they came home to visit. He asked her about school - _he_ didn't ask about school, ever. Not even when she was in Elementary school and brought him home a hand decorated Father's day mug. But then he continued, asking Fits about being in the Senate, and admin him about his stint in the Navy. Fitz didn't like talking about that, but it wasn't like her father knew that.

"You haven't said much today," She commented as they walked with their hands right together towards his car to go out for the night.

"Just trying to keep everything status quo," He replied as the got to the car, and she paused them near the hood.

He looked down at her for a second before she couldn't help it, and she went up on her tip toes. She pressed her lips against his, then shifted to press them harder, eventually bringing his warm, perfect lower lip into her mouth. She couldn't get over how amazing his mouth tasted, warm, inviting, and then she felt him slipping his tongue into the action. There was a little flag, when she kissed him he usually waited a little longer, he always teased he was enjoying being kissed by the beautiful woman that he loved more than anything. But now it was like he was trying to literally put his tongue down her throat.

"I love you so, so much, Livy," He said, breaking the kiss and putting his forehead against hers gently.

"I love you, too," She said, his arms and hand a clinging to her.

"Ok," He nodded, like it was the first time he was really internalizing it - but she knew he had a long time ago, "C'mon, let's get out of here for a while."

He took her to a movie downtown, which wasn't really his style. His dates usually consisted of a lot more, and of course they had seen one or two, but it was usually in the middle of the afternoon, like a pre-date. He liked to take her out to places where they could talk, share moments, thoughts, ideas. They talked about everything, so a movie as the main outing was throw in her off a bit. She took a deep breath as they sat, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders as the previews for all the movies coming out around Christmas started to play. She understood that she had only suggested they go out that morning, and he didn't really have time to plan anything - and he was already in a weird state. There were more than enough explanations, but for some reason she was still getting a bad feeling. She reached over and put her hand on his thigh, massaging it lightly, moving from there to his knee and back, wishing he would just calm down.

"That was a good movie," Olivia commented as they drove, from what she understood, he was just driving around now.

"They did it pretty well," He said as he reached over, starting to massage her knee lightly, "I wasn't at all expecting that at the end."

"Fitz, that movie was crap," She said, looking over at him as he drove off onto a side road, "You could see the ending a mile away, they showed it to us at the beginning. The main character couldn't win for shit."

"Yeah, but I was hoping it would change," He replied, and she nodded as she turned to look at him, "Hey look."

Olivia smiled a little bit as Fitz stopped on the hill he had brought her to one of the last times he was there for the summer. The whole skyline of the city could be seen, and it looked absolutely beautiful. He put the car in park, and she unbuckled herself, slipping over, not minding that it wasn't the most comfortable to be leaning against the center console, but the fact that she could put her arms around Fitz made it ok. He unbuckled too, untangling the seat belt, and holding her tighter than he ever had. She liked when he held her, and he always held her close – but this was something else. She always thought that since she was so little, no matter how much she told him that that shouldn't mean anything, he was scared of hurting her. He gave her a little squeeze, and kissed the top of her head. She looked up at him.

"I know something's up," Olivia told him, and he nodded.

"I know, that you know," He said, dipping down and pecking her forehead, "I already miss her, ya know?"

"Already? Fitz, your mom's been gone months," She said, taking a deep breath – this wasn't it, but she assumed that it might be part of it, "I would be surprised if you didn't miss her."

"Yeah," He said, looking down, and away from her, "I love her too much, I wasn't ready for her to not be here. I'm not ready for it. I can't-"

"Fitz," She said, looking up at him, running her hand down his cheekbone, "She wanted you to be ok, she loved you. I love you, and I just want you to be ok, alright? It sucks, and it's painful, and it kills you, but you have to do what you have to do to…"

"How did your mom die?" Fitz asked her, like he was ashamed.

He hated asking her questions before she said anything, or introduced a subject. He was good like that, and she could see that he really did need the answer. Otherwise, he wouldn't have asked. And why shouldn't he know by now? They had been dating almost a year, were in love, and had no current plans – there was no reason he shouldn't know something so simple about her as how her mother died. She had sat with him while his own mother had died, helped him through it – and was still helping him through it. He took a deep breath, and she felt herself go up and down with his chest. She rolled so that she was sitting on top of him, and he rolled his chair all the way back. She laid down.

"Plane crash," Olivia said, curling up a little bit, trying to make herself comfortable, "No warning, she was just gone. Like a human life, like my mother didn't even matter, in the grand scheme of things."

"Plane Crash…"

"In December, 1991. I was twelve, a little while later, I met you at a Gala," She replied, and he nodded, she could see a tear start to form in his eyes – she wiped it away, "I've never told you this, but you were the first person I really talked to about her passing. Dad – as you can imagine – wasn't up for talking. The Gala was a couple of nights before I left for boarding school, making it simple – you made an impression on me."

"You made one on me, too," He replied, "Every time I ran into you, it was – when I needed a sane voice."

"I think I knew," Olivia said, and he furrowed his eyebrow, "That you were going to be special to me, important. Of course I didn't know exactly, but – "

"I knew too," He admitted, and she cocked her head a little to the side, "I didn't know quite what it was, but I knew it was something, a connection – and I wasn't up for connecting to anyone, for any reason, or in any capacity. Why do you think I ran like hell?"

Something in his voice made it sound like he wished he had run faster, further away, and never came back. It sank through, and it was the first time she had ever really had a doubt since they started dating that he said anything like that. She narrowed her gaze.

"Fitz?"

"Yeah?" His somewhat normal voice was back, but he sounded distant.

"We should head back," She said, not wanting to ask into that one, and he noticed that she was upset.

"Don't-"

"It's ok, we should go," She said, slipping back over into her seat, and he brought his chair back up.

"Livy.."

"C'mon," She said, facing forward, "Start the car."

"Livy," He said, leaning across, touching her face gently, but turning it to face him – she knew she was about to cry, "Don't get upset, I can't– I can't do anything when you're upset. I can't think – I can't breathe. So, please, Livy – I'm begging you, don't get upset. I didn't mean for it to come out that way, I didn't even realize… Liv. I love you. I couldn't imagine not – "

"It's ok," She swallowed, hard, "I know you didn't mean it. Saying something like that – it's not you."

"Yeah," He smiled, as he leaned in and kissed her, softly – just briefly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I wouldn't trade you, for anything. I wouldn't – I can't seeing you upset, I can't deal with that. I can't handle knowing you're upset, about anything. You're strong, and amazing, and you absolutely blow my mind – seeing you down just isn't ok. I love – if I could - And if there was a way – "

"Fitz, it's ok," Olivia said, kissing his cheek, "You do pretty well at that whole, not liking me upset. Look at what you've done in the past three days, I would have been crying to you on the phone at least three times…It's alright. Let's go. We should head back."

"Yeah," He said, his voice cracking a little again, starting up the car again – she put her hand on his thigh, "Make sure your seat belt's on, alright?"

Fitz drove her back to the house a little slower than she was used to him driving, but that was ok. They walked into the house, and there wasn't much of a sign if her father was awake or not. The lights were all off, but she wouldn't put it past him to sit up in the living room waiting for them to come back in the dark. Sometimes he made goose bumps run up her back, he was creepy. He hid around corners, and usually knew everything that was going on. She took a breath, leading Fitz in by the hand. She desperately wanted to crawl into bed with Fitz, and she wished he had insisted on staying at a hotel. There was something going on, she wasn't sure what it was – as well as she knew him, there was no way to literally know what exactly he was thinking. But she knew it wasn't good, and she wanted to be next to him, just in case.

"Good night, Livy," He said, as he walked her up to her bedroom door.

"Night, Fitz," She said, as he leaned down and kissed her sweetly.

"Sleep well," It sounded a little heavier than a suggestion as she slipped through her door.

She woke up the next morning, and her father had ordered them all breakfast. She recognized it, he used to order it for the first morning she was home from boarding school. She had always thought about it as her last meal before fully entering the hell that was this house for the summer. It always managed to get her to miss her mother, and she had it in the back of her head that he might know exactly the mixture of pleasure – because it was delicious – with the anxiety and fear that completely overrode any pleasure in the taste.

"You kept him out late last night?" He asked, casually noting that Fitz hadn't joined them yet, halfway through breakfast.

"Yeah, he doesn't rebound quite as well as I do in the morning," Olivia said, and her father nodded, "He should be down soon."

"Good," Her father said, and Olivia nodded.

"He really is a great guy, dad."

"A little old for you," He did a low bark, like he had been trying to keep in a little anger, "A little too much of a politician."

"He's scared around you," Olivia said, and her father smiled a little bit, "Is that today's paper?"

"The Twenty-Second," He said, handing it over to her.

"Thanks," She took itt, and he smiled, "What?"

"Nothing," Her father replied as Fitz walked into the room, he looked sick, or something.

"Good morning," Fitz said a little weakly, and Olivia smiled at him.

"Breakfast?" She asked him, and he shook his head.

"No, I'm not really hungry."

That was a first. In almost a year, she was almost certain that she had never seen him refuse a meal, other than when his mother died. Other than for about a week after his mother had died, he was ready to stuff his face about eighty percent of his day. She didn't make a big deal about it, because she didn't really want to question him about it in front of her father, but she shot him a quick look. He shrugged it off, and she let it go, for now. But once they were back in California – both of them – she was going to have some questions for him. She went up to her room once she was done to get everything together for her flight. She had just managed to stuff everything in, including Fitz's Navy Sweatshirt that she had stolen from him, knowing they were going to be away from each other in the front of her bag before she headed down.

"…I need to know…" Fitz was saying, and she heard her father laugh as she walked into the kitchen – and they both went silent.

"Ready to head off?" Her father asked her.

"What was that about?"

"Fitz was just telling me a joke," Her father replied, and she looked at Fitz to finish it – he wasn't really good with outright humor, it was generally more situational, or a quick, witty comment, "I'll have to wait until I see him again to hear the rest of it."

"….O….K…" Olivia said as Fitz reached for her hand.

"C'mon," He said, "My stuff's already in the car."

They said goodbye to her father rather quickly, and then Fitz led her out to the car. He still seemed so melancholy, that she was wondering if she should really be heading back with him acting like this. Her classes wouldn't be in reviews for finals for another couple of weeks, and she had an impeccable attendance record, so she could afford to stay if it was warranted. She held his hand all the way to the airport, and he helped her up and out of the car, setting her bags on the sidewalk, then giving her a hug.

"Hey, try to cheer up a little by the time you get to me on Tuesday night, ok?" She said, and he nodded, he looked like he had to say something, "We should do something this weekend, make up for not really having alone time here…"

"Liv," He spoke up, and she stopped talking, "I can't come and see you on Tuesday."

"Ok, well the weekend – "

"No, Liv," Fitz shook his head, then took a deep breath – like he was summoning something, "This never should have happened."

"What?"

"This, us," He said, looking up at the ceiling, then looking at her, for a split second before looking at the side walk, "I should have never asked you out- I knew better. It's my fault, and I never should have let this happen. It would have been so much better if I had just been able to ignore you. We can't be together, Olivia. I – "

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Liv, I'm on a certain path," He said, "I've been groomed for politics, elections, and eventually, I'm supposed to be running for president. That means that my life's pretty much planned out for me – nothing's been left up to anything other than my father's plan, _the_ plan. You're not what anyone would consider good to be married or with someone who's going where I am. It's just not going to work, its two different worlds. I have to go now, have a good life, Livy."

* * *

A/N: See, I knew exactly how they were going to fall apart when I started writing this – and even I was having a hard time getting it ready, and getting it written… gahhh - ok… next time we see these two… it's going to be present day… hope you were at least entertained, or something :)


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Hey, so a quick update would be helpful, huh? Enjoy :)

What Could Have Been

Part II: The Fallen World

Chapter Seventeen

Olivia Pope was leaning over her desk at her political fixing firm, trying to finish up working on the case that she was working on that day before she had to leave early. She could see her worker-bees, as she sometimes thought of them, standing out in the main conference room, peering casually through the glass and into her office, pretending like they weren't snooping. Of course, snooping was exactly what they all did for a living, and she was starting to think that maybe she should start giving them some pointers. For now though, she just had to ignore them so that she could get out of there, and get to her son's school so she could chaperone his field trip. The school was requiring that if the student was going, then they had to have someone going with them. Just one parent, or guardian. And she wasn't about to make him miss it. She got up from her desk, and that was when Abby walked in – she had been waiting for this talk. She threw her bag over her shoulder.

"What is it, Abby?" She asked like she didn't know already, as she leaned back onto her desk, "I have to get to Nathan's school."

"Are you sure you want to go to this thing this afternoon?" Abby asked her, and Olivia's eyes darted over towards the door, which Abby had shut.

"Abby."

"It's a bad idea, Liv," Abby said, "You can barely watch the news – I've seen you. Especially lately. But you couldn't even watch him on TV, even when -"

"And how am I supposed to tell my six year old that he can't go to the White House, to meet the President of the United States?" Olivia told her, and Abby paused, "It's been less than six months since his father died, it's the first thing that he's been looking forward to since, and I – "

"So let me go," Abby said, "I'll go with him. Write him a note saying I'll be responsible for him, and I'll go."

"No, he wants me to go with him," Olivia said, playing with the wedding rings that she hadn't quite been able to take off yet, "I'll just hide in the back, it'll be fine."

"Liv, you're going to have to be in the same room with him," She replied, "You're just starting to be yourself again after James, and…"

"I'm going with my son on his field trip," Olivia said flatly, "Odds are he won't even see me in the crowd, ok?"

"He won't see you? After how he _used_ to look at you?"

"Abby, that was a long time ago," Olivia said, and Abby rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, and how are you feeling?"

"That's not the point."

"Oh c'mon – even when you two were together he was way more free with loving you. He's still hurting, and he's an asshole, and you can't go today, you can't. Please, don't."

"Abby, Nathan has the lead in a pageant they're doing at the White House. His father died, almost six months ago. He needs me."

"Yes, he needs you. And he needs you not turn into a puddled mess for no apparent reason. He's seen enough of that since James died, and you're just starting to come back to him, ok? James was good for you…"

"And James is dead," Olivia said, and Abby stopped, "I'm taking my son to the White House to meet the President. I'm not nineteen or twenty anymore, I will be fine."

"Alright, you're a grown woman," Abby replied as Olivia headed by her, and out the door towards the parking garage, "It's just all I can think about right now is when I had to pick you up from the airport, thirteen years ago from today. Today, Liv – if that's not a sign you shouldn't be going to this, I don't know what is. Except maybe the fact that's it's been thirteen years – there's nothing good that can come from this. You were a mess – you could barely function for –"

"Enough, I'll be fine," Olivia said, taking a deep breath.

She waited for Abby to say something else, but she didn't – she was just giving her a sad little look, and Olivia did not have time for that. She looked at her watch as she left, not really stopping to talk to anyone else as she left. It wasn't like anyone else would know anything about it, it was just Abby. And she was only worried because she knew what had happened in the year and a half after she and Fitz had split up, after he had deserted her at the airport. At about a year, she was almost ok, and then he had gotten married – and that, that sent her back to a worse place than she had started. The wedding pictures were everywhere, the engagement had been the majority of the year, and his new bride showed up everywhere. She actually shook her head as she got into her car, and headed towards Nathan's school.

"Mom," He smiled as she walked into his class room, where most of the other parents were already sitting with their kids.

"Hey, sweetie," She said, crouching down to give him a hug.

"We're about to get on the bus," He told her, and she smiled as she fixed his little outfit, and wiped his face off – he had a little remnant cookie on the corner of his mouth.

"I promise the bus isn't going to leave without us," She told him, and he nodded, as his Kindergarten teacher called everyone to head out to head out to the bus.

Nathan reached up, taking her hand and leading her out of the building. The kids were all really excited, they had been working for months to play pilgrims, and Indians, and put on a little Thanksgiving pageant for the President and First Lady. Her plan was to take a seat in the back with the other parents, after their little pageant, the President was going to talk to them and give them a little speech before having a snack hour with the kids. She had a feeling that he was going to read them a story, as well. There was a chattering of excitement from the parents, Olivia could tell they were generally more excited about it than the kids. She knew she had to be the only parent on the bus that was dreading the whole thing, and wishing that she could have sent James. But she couldn't, because he was gone, and even if he was alive, he probably wouldn't have been in town.

"Mommy," Nathan said, as he slid onto the bus seat next to her, she had taken the window seat.

"Yeah, buddy?" She asked, running her hand over his hair – he had the lead, playing the Pilgrim leader.

"Can we go visit dad after?" He asked, and Olivia took a deep breath, "I want to tell him all about it."

"I don't think we can today," She told him, knowing that she was going to be in no shape to go and visit her husband's grave stone.

Nathan's therapist had told her that it was good, to let him go and talk to the stone for up until a year after James was gone. That it would help him sort out his feelings to feel like he could just talk to his father still. She agreed, but it was hard, watching her little boy talk to a stone for a little while. That was the point though, right? Of cemeteries? You were supposed to go and talk, and get out what you want to say. She patted his hair quietly, as he nodded. He looked a little disappointed, but he would be ok.

"Ok, mom," He said with a little smile, and Olivia took a deep breath.

"Why don't we go and visit your grandfather after this?" She said, and he made a face.

"Daddy didn't like Grandpa, why do we have to go see him?"

"Because he's very old," Olivia told him as the Bus drove through DC towards Pennsylvania Avenue, "And he's sick in the hospital."

"But why?"

"Because it's the right thing to do, buddy," She said, and he nodded, "Your daddy would be so proud of you, you know that, right?"

"Yeah," Nathan replied, nodding so much that she was starting to get concerned about the safety of his pilgrim hat in his hands.

"Here," She took it from him to hold, and he smiled.

"Thanks, mom," He said, and she smiled.

"What do you say we have pizza tonight for dinner?" She asked him, and his face lit up, "And maybe Auntie Abby can come over?"

"Yeah," He said.

"Well, I'll have to ask her," She replied, taking out her phone and texting her as the bus came to a stop inside the back gates of the White House.

"Mom," Nathan said, and Olivia looked down at him as they stood up, ready to get off the bus.

"Yes, honey?"

"What if I forget my lines?" He asked, and she shrugged.

"Then you forget, but I don't think you will," She said, her hand on his shoulder as they were walking, "You're so smart. But if you do, it's not a big deal, ok?"

"Do you think he'll laugh at me?" He asked, as they were waiting in the line to get checked out by security.

"Who?" Olivia asked as he walked through the metal detector in front of her, "Who would laugh at you?"

"The President, Mom," He said, and Olivia shook her head as the Secret Service escorted the class of twelve, the twelve parents, and their teacher through the halls to one of the room.

"No, I don't think he will," Olivia replied, knowing he wouldn't.

"How do you know?" He asked, and Olivia sighed as they got into a small room with a small stage, and chairs all set up.

"Because I do," She told him, kneeling down to give him another hug, "Now go and get ready with Mrs. Turner and the rest of your class."

"Ok," He said, and Olivia nodded, "I love you, mom."

"I love you too, honey," She said as he ran off to join his friends.

The other parents in Nathan's class didn't really interact with her too much, probably because they didn't really know how to place her. She was a working mom, which was interesting enough in the particular social class that went to the school. Then there was the fact that her job was so powerful, and so intense – that she not only worked, but worked in politics was something that they didn't really know how to approach. Then, of course, the fact that her husband had recently died, well – that just made her the woman that everyone was afraid to talk to. Never mind that her husband had died in a mudslide in Ecuador. James had been a pediatrician, and had traveled a lot to help where he could. Anyway, with all that going for her, they didn't really talk to her. That was except when they were inviting Nathan over, or Nathan wanted to have one of their friends over. They were cordial and polite, and it was never a problem either way, but in general, it seemed they didn't know how to include her. That was fine, she didn't really have time to be, anyway.

"Olivia," One of the moms – she couldn't remember her name, but she smiled, "C'mon, sit by me."

She hadn't been planning on 'sitting by her', mostly because it was a seat right by the aisle, and would most likely be right out in the open when Fitz walked in. However, knowing how small the group was, she knew that it would only be a matter of time before he realized that she was there. She took a deep breath, and sat with a smile. She had touched up her makeup before she left work, and she was looking pretty great. Which was more than enough for her. She would make it through the afternoon, and then that would be that. She could bring Nathan to see her father, and then she would go home, eat pizza with Nathan and Abby – then drink away with Abby, who texted her to say that she was bringing a couple bottles of red. Olivia made a mental note to thank her for it later.

"Where are the kids?" A man that Olivia immediately recognized must be Cyrus walked out onto the stage.

"They're back getting ready, with their teacher," One of the aides said, and the mother who had invited her to sit leaned over.

"Who's that?"

"Cyrus Beene," Olivia said, without thinking that she might not have known that if she didn't the way she did, "He's the chief of Staff."

Which meant they were using this for PR. Well, she had figured that much.

"So they're probably getting ready to bring in the President?"

"Probably."

"And Mellie?"

"Probably," Olivia said, and she nodded.

"It's so good you're in politics," She smiled, and Olivia smiled a little bit.

"Parents?" Cyrus climbed down from the stage and walked over to them.

"Yes," The one dad who had come replied, and he nodded.

"Welcome to the White House," Cy said, looking over his clipboard, "The President and First Lady will be down in a minute. They'll greet you, then they'll sit in the front row with the children's teacher and principal, then you all will sit where you are, right behind them. After the pageant, the kids will return to you, and we'll head to the reception room. We have the plan?"

There was a round of nods, and 'yes's as the door that Cyrus had come through opened up again. This time about three secret service agents spilled into the room first. They swept the room quickly, making sure that no one who wasn't supposed to be there was there, then took their places in the corners of the room. She took a deep breath as the door swung open again, and Fitz walked in. He had aged well, his hair as perfect as it always had been, and his eyes that piercing blue. He was tall, and thin as he always had been, muscle moving under his suit. Only something was different, he was sad – he looked miserable, she knew that he would be from what little news she did see with him in it. He always had that melancholy, 'I might shoot myself in the head, whenever I figure out how to get a minute to myself' look to him. But today, he looked sickly.

"Ah, Mr. President," Cyrus called to him, and he walked over, the First Lady was walking right behind him.

Mellie Grant was a short, very regal woman. And even ignoring the part of her that was angry just that she existed, she was exactly what Fitz had been referring to when he had told her he needed to marry someone who could help him, like his father had said. Olivia took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check as Mellie complete, pearls, skirt suit, and pointed black shoes walked behind him over towards the group. There was something missing in his walk, he had always had a certain swagger when he walked, and now it almost seemed like he was sulking around, and he hadn't even seen her yet.

"Mellie," Cyrus greeted her with a smile, and Olivia saw that a look like she had smelled something awful be replaced by one of the fakest smiles she had ever seen, "Let me introduce you two to the parents of the children that you'll be seeing this afternoon."

"Well, hello everyone," Mellie said perkily, and Olivia looked over at Fitz – who met her eye and nearly took a step back, "I just want to thank you all for sharing your children with us before the holiday. The residence seems so much quieter at any of the holidays with kids. Of course, I can't have any, so…"

"Thank you," Fitz pulled his gaze away from her – trying and failing to seem like a supportive husband, "All, I –"

"You'll all have to excuse Fitz," Mellie said, giving him one of the most condescending and angry looks – that Olivia was pretty sure only she saw – out of the corner of her eye, "We really do just love children."

Olivia felt a little pang in her chest, how could someone treat him like that? He was such as sweatheart – What the hell was she saying? He was an asshole, and he deserved to be in the situation that he was, right? There was no reason that she should feel bad for him, but she did, and she didn't like it. She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. When she glanced back at Fitz, it seemed like a few more weights had been put on his shoulders, and Mrs. Turner came back out from behind the stage with the principal, and they took seats next to Fitz and Mellie respectively. The whole play was about fifteen minutes, because, of course – the kids were on average six and a half.

"You did great," Olivia ignored Fitz as he lurked a few feet away, and Nathan ran over to her.

"Really?" Nathan said and Olivia hugged him.

"Amazing."

"I almost forgot my line, and then I remembered," He said with a smile, and Olivia smiled too.

"You did good," Fitz walked over behind her, and she shot him a look, he took a step back.

"Really?" Nathan's eyes expanded as Olivia stood back up and he went to stand in front of Fitz.

"Yeah," Fitz gave him a smile that was so sad Olivia was sure that it couldn't possibly be considered a smile.

"Everyone ready?" Cyrus asked as a camera flashed a picture of Fitz leaning down to talk to Nathan.

"Yeah," Olivia said, hoping to God that the faster this all went, the faster she could get away.

She was, of course, praying that she could keep her distance as much as possible for the rest of the hour that they were going to be there. She could feel the walls she had been building up since Nathan had come home from school so excited that his class was going to meet the President – that they were going to the White House. Nathan held her hand as they walked, and she took a deep breath, trying not to look at Fitz as he walked amongst the crowd of parents. She could feel his eyes on her back, and she swallowed. Trting to build her defenses back up. She would have to text Abby to bring over something a little harder than wine.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: And now into Fitz's point of view? And, here we go… Enjoy :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Eighteen

Fitz stayed over by the buffet table as much as he could as they were sitting around and the parents were socializing. Olivia was staying near the back, and it was easy enough to stay away from her as he was surrounded by children, and parents. He couldn't help though, but look directly at her little boy. He was just as smart as she was, he could see it in his eyes, and the questions that he was asking him. Mellie was laughing the way that he had heard so many times, and he knew that it meant she wanted to swat him, Fitz wasn't about to let that happen. He kept glancing over the crowd, watching Olivia as she sat by herself. He knew he should stay away, and he knew by the scathing looks he was getting, and the rings on her finger that had in no way escaped his view that she in no way wanted him anywhere near her. He assumed her husband, and her kid didn't know about their relationship, why would they? There was nothing that he could do to help her, and she looked way happier than he was. But he had missed her, so much. For years, he had tried to ignore Mellie's existence, and pretend that he was all by himself – and he just missed her, for month long blocks at a time, dipping in and out of depressions.

Olivia, sitting in the same room, she was so close earlier he could smell her – God, how he missed that. The love of his life was sitting ten feet away, and he couldn't even go over and say hello? He was being a little antisocial, but he was always antisocial, he was sad, all the time. But right now, he didn't want to be sad. He wanted to cross the room and pull her up to her feet, kiss her until the last thirteen years didn't matter anymore – but he knew he couldn't. And it wasn't because he was President, and his 'wife' was standing five feet in the other direction. With his father dead, and the deal and the secret had died with him. It was because he had broken her heart, and to do anything like that now, when she had her life together, apparently, he couldn't do it. He had already caused her enough pain. He couldn't have her, not with her father alive, and he hadn't heard anything to the contrary. Unless he killed her father – which had been a thought, quite a few times. No, Olivia was the love of his life, he couldn't cross the room to go and talk to her.

Mellie shot him a look again, and he knew he wasn't staring at Liv. He had picked a spot on the floor when they had walked in, and he was staring at that instead. He had known that day at the airport that he was being forced into doing the absolute worst thing that he could possibly do. He was imploding his life, and he could do nothing to stop it. When he had gotten back to California, he didn't leave his apartment for three months, except to go to work. By then he had convinced himself that there would be no one else, because he knew that there wasn't. He still knew there wasn't. That was when he had gone to his father, and told him to find a woman for him to marry. He told him he didn't want kids, to plan accordingly. After all the fantasizing he had done about growing old and having children with Liv, he couldn't stomach the idea of having a child with anyone else. That's why they had made it up to the press that Mellie had suffered some strange illness as a child. He looked over at you Liv again, and he caught a glimpse of something he wasn't expecting – she looked, sad.

Oh, this was all Bullshit.

"Excuse me," Fitz said politely, walking around the group and walking over to Olivia, "Is everything alright, Ms Pope? Unless you've changed your me privately."

"Nope, it's still Pope," She said, pointedly, "I kept it. James was ok with it."

"He's a lucky man." Fitz said, "I don't think anyone would mind."

"He is, very lucky," Olivia said, "He's a doctor, pediatrician."

That was supposed to hurt him, and it did it's job.

"I've heard your name tossed around a bit," He said, "I hear you're doing quite well."

"And you look like shit," Olivia replied, and he nodded.

"You know me…"

"I've been over it a couple times," Olivia said, "I honestly don't think I ever did."

"You did." She was the only one who ever had.

"Why did you come over here?"

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"Forgive me if I'm not your biggest fan," She replied, burnkly, and he felt the burn all the way in his toes.

"Olivia…"

"Ms Pope."

There was a minute of silence, and Fitz could just feel his heart beating in his chest. It hurt, with each pump as he felt the pit of his stomach – he had known that this was going to be a bad idea. And suddenly, it just managed to get worse, which he wasn't previously sure could have happened. But it did, he watched Olivia roll her eyes at him, and heels hitting the floor. He didn't even have to look over to know that Mellie had walked up, and he had to look away, off at the table – at Olivia's coffee.

"You'll have to excuse him," Mellie said, taking a deep breath, the fake voice that very few recognized, but he knew that Olivia could, "He's always had a brooding, melancholy demeanor – it's good for his job, but he's not so great in social situations."

"He _hasn't_ **always** been that way," Olivia corrected her, and Fitz looked back at her.

It was such a perfect Olivia comment. She didn't back down, and she didn't play nice, not really. He wanted to smile, and he would have – he might have a little as he stared at the ground. It was also a little bit of a twist of the knife. If only she knew what had really happened – the choice he had been given.

"Oh, I'm sorry – You two know each other?"

"_Knew_ each other," Olivia said, probably realizing that she had been a little bitchy, understandably, "And not very well, and not for very long."

"What happened?" Mellie's voice hit a note that he knew all too well.

"Drifted apart," Olivia said, as Nathan, her son, walked over to her, "Hey, sweetie."

"Mom, can we go?"

"You're not having fun?" Mellie asked, and completely terrified him.

"Sure, honey," Olivia gave Mellie a look, and she walked away.

"We have to go visit Grandpa," He reminded his mother, and Fitz's eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

He would have assumed he was the last person that Olivia would bring her son to see.

"Your father?" Fitz asked, and Olivia nodded slowly.

"He's in the hospital," Nathan told him, and Fitz nodded, "He's old, and sick. Mom says we have to go see him, because it's the right thing to do. He's probably going to die soon…"

"Oh, where is he?" Fitz asked, trying not to sound as intrigued as he was.

"Nathan, go get your coat."

"He's at Holy Cross, in Maryland, Mr. President," Nathan replied, and ran off.

"Livy.."

"Don't.."

"Why're you…"

"He changed, from before."

"I doubt it," Fitz said, and Olivia rolled her eyes.

"Well, if you wanted a say in what I was doing at this stage in my life – I don't know why you would – I'm not good enough for you to worry about," Olivia said, and Fitz hung his head, "It doesn't matter, Fitz. We wouldn't have lasted very long once I met James."

Daggers, he felt like she had punched him right in the gut. He couldn't breathe, like she had kicked him just enough to knock the wind out of him. The suspiciously triumphant look on her face made him think that it had been on purpose as she turned and left with Nathan, not even bothering to say goodbye. He took a deep breath, and rejoined the group. When he did, Mellie looked a little more pissed off than usual, he knew he'd hear it from her later, but he didn't really care at the moment. He excused himself from the kids, announcing that he wasn't feeling all that well, and would hate to give it to any of the kids. He posed for one or two pictures, and then hightailed it up to the residence. There was no way he was going to be able to focus on anything else for the day, he sent something quick to Cyrus telling him to cancel the rest of his day.

"Fitzgerald!" He had barely walked into the living room and sat down on the couch with a carton of ice cream when he heard Mellie walking in.

"I'm in the living room," He called back, no point avoiding the inevitable.

"I thought you were gay!" Mellie was now standing in the middle of the room, her arms up in the air, "I thought that was why you needed your father to arrange our marriage, why you didn't wants any children, and why you've ignored me as much as you were able to for the past eleven years. You were drunk for the first two, so I assume that was how all of that happened."

"What do you want, Mellie?" He asked, putting a spoon full of chocolate chip into his mouth, "I never said I was gay. You just assumed that yourself, and I let you. I figured it was easier for you to think I didn't like women at all."

"Well at least now I know where your perpetual resentment comes from."

"_My_ perpetual resentment?" Fitz questioned, "I leave you alone ninety-eight percent of the time."

"And in doing so, you never told me that you were the way you were because you were carrying a torch for some girlfriend that broke your heart God knows how many years ago!" She shouted, and Fitz put his spoon down in the carton –putting it on the coffee table.

"I need some Macaroni and Cheese," He got up from the couch, and Mellie followed him into the kitchen, where he pulled a box out of the back of the cabinet.

"Macaroni and Cheese?!" Mellie kept her voice raised, "Are you serious, honey!"

"Don't call me that," Fitz said, pulling out the pot, and filing it with water.

"Is that snot nosed brat yours?!"

"No," Fitz said, "Unless she was pregnant for about seven years. No, he's her husband's."

"Everyone can hear you yelling out in the hallway, Mellie," Cyrus said as walked into the kitchen to join them, unannounced, "Sir, how on earth are you thinking that I'm cancelling the rest of your day?"

"Because I'm making mac'n'cheese."

"Your making mac'n'cheese," Cyrus collapsed into a chair at the table, "What happened? You know all of our lives would be a whole hell of a lot easier if you weren't so emotional."

"I think that's what the people like about me," Fitz replied, pouring in the little macaroni, "I might be ok after I eat this."

"What happened?" Cyrus asked again.

"Some woman named Olivia was at the children's thing," Mellie said, and Cyrus looked up at the ceiling.

"Seriously? Which parent was she?"

"Oh, of course Cyrus knows about it," Mellie complained.

"Mel, don't you have some hospital to cut the ribbon at?" Fitz shot at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"You actually do," Cyrus said, checking his watch, and Mellie left, hands in the air in frustration, "So which one was she? I'd love be able to put a face…"

"Olivia Pope, you know her face," Fitz said, "I believe you've been doing recon on her for months, and wanted her to run my reelection campaign? I told you it wasn't a good idea? That I didn't want her to do it?"

"Of course, they're the same person," Cyrus said, as Fitz drained the noodles and was mixing up the cheese, "But with all due respect sir, you are the President of the United States."

"That wasn't my doing."

"But you are," Cyrus said, "SO SUCK IT UP, EAT YOUR LUNCH, AND THEN GET YOUR ASS BACK DOWN TO THE SITUATION ROOM FOR YOUR DAMN MEETING!"

"Ok."

"Why you even got into politics, I'll never know," Cyrus said, following Mellie right out of the residence.

He didn't get back to the residence until almost midnight, and he was angry. He was angry that he was stuck in the White House. He couldn't get the picture of Olivia lying in bed, curled up happily in the arms of another man – this James – her husband. It killed him, the thought of her raising that little boy with him, and completely moving on. That had been the idea, when he had been forced to break both of their hearts. The idea was to make her hate him so much that she would be destroyed, and then she wouldn't want anything to do with him. She would want to move on, she would be able to fall in love with someone else. He had gotten what he wanted, she was relatively happy – except that wasn't what he wanted at all. He could make her so much happier than she was now, she would have had everything she wanted, and probably a little bit more. She would be his First Lady, but she wouldn't be a First Lady. She would have had her own gig, and a good one. And there was a singular man to blame.

"Tom," He said, opening the front door.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm going to want a car, in about fifteen minutes."

"Where are we going, sir?"

"Holy Cross Hospital," He said, and Tom nodded, "I want you to call ahead, and tell them I want to visit an Eli Pope."

"Yes, sir," Tom replied, heading off towards the door where the secret service on call room was.

Fitz didn't even want to peek at the clock as the presidential limousine pulled into drive right in front of the front door. He had to wait a couple of minutes while the Secret Service ran through the building making sure everything was ok for him to go inside. Of course, they didn't account for the people that were in there, and their level of danger, but that was beside the point. Tom gave the driver a thumbs up, and then walked over to his door and opened it up for him. He walked through the hospital, wondering what he would be saying once he got up to the room. He took a deep breath, and paused outside the door.

"Sir?" Tom asked him, and he nodded, then headed inside.

He had never thought that he would ever see Rowan as he was here. He was hooked up to all sorts of machines, and had an oxygen mask strapped up to his face. Rowan looked weak, which was quite clearly a folly, there was no way that he was actually as weak as he looked, and Fitz eyed the phone that was sitting on the nightstand. He walked over and sat down. The minute his ass hit the seat, Rowan jumped up and was awake, he panicked for a couple of minutes, and then looked over and saw Fitz sitting next to him. He rolled his eyes, lowering his mask and glaring at him – his eyes were the same, cold, dead ones that he remembered. The ones that haunted his dreams. There was an odd, diversity themed balloon in the corner, and Fitz raised his eyebrows, it was an interesting choice.

"I figured it was only a matter of time before you showed up," Rowan said hesitantly, and Fitz nodded.

"That's a hell of a way to wake up," Fitz shot back, "What's the matter, do you have a guilty conscience?"

"What do you want?" Rowan said.

"Nice balloon," Fitz commented, and Rowan nodded.

"My grandson brought it to me earlier."

"Right. I met Nathan today, cute kid."

"…But not as cute as if he was your son?" Rowan poked him, and Fitz took a deep breath.

"Either way he got it all form his mom."

"What do you want?" Rowan repeated himself.

"I think you know what I want," Fitz said, and Rowan rolled his eyes, "You ruined my life, I want some answers, like why you did it."

"You were in the Navy, you had orders to follow."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Fitz said, "Though I am a little bit curious as to why you would allow the mother of your child to be killed like that. No, I want to know why you – "

"Why I split you and my daughter," Rowan said, and Fitz shrugged, but Rowan knew to take it as a nod, "I have worked my way up in the backrooms of backrooms. I rose to the highest position at one of the most important government institutions…"

"Is that what you would call it?"

"And, whether or not you believe me, I did it all for my daughter," He said, and Fitz scoffed.

"Yeah."

"Well, I said already that I don't care what you think," He said, and Fitz nodded – that much was evident, "The last thing that I wanted for my daughter was to marry a man on the inside. I didn't want her married to anyone remotely close to politics. I wanted her to marry someone with a boring, civilian job. I wanted her to get a boring civilian job, so that she wasn't anywhere near the things that I have seen in service to my country. I sold my soul for my country, I know that, and I know that makes me pretty low in everyone's book, including my daughter, because she doesn't get to have clue what I really do for a living. But I did it, and I wanted my daughter to be safe, tucked in bed and away. Tucked into bed safely not knowing that monsters, real life monsters, went running around in the night. And you, even back then I knew it, I wasn't going to let her…"

"Well, you got half your wish," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, crossing his arms, and leaning back, "She went into politics all by herself."

"You're angry at me about how your life turned out," Rowan said, taking a breath, and looking over at him, 'sneaking' a quick breath of oxygen from his mask, "And that's fine, because you're a spoiled jerk that is used to getting his own way. So therefore, nothing is ever your fault. But I don't mind, because there are a lot of people who do. However, you should know – you have no one to blame but yourself…"

"Except it is your fault," Fitz said, and Rowan stopped, "Well, I'm sure there were other ways to do it, but I love your daughter. I always have, and she crazy about me. If I had gone to her first, if I had told her everything that you told me, everything that had happened – she would have forgiven me. She's smart, she would know that I didn't have a clue, that I was following orders. That it was you that ordered me to shoot down her mother's plane. You knew what you were doing. I didn't. Though tell me, as you seem to know everything, did you know then that I was going to fall in love with her when you ordered me to shoot down her mother's plane?"

Rowan laughed, which turned quickly into a coughing fit.

"No, for that I would have to be God, and he doesn't like to watch what I do," Rowan said, something in his voice made chills run down his spine, "You still haven't figured it out…"

"What?"

"Figured it out, Fitz – because if you had manned up, and told her," Rowan said, "You might have gotten the name of the flight her mother was on. Because the plane she was on got national attention when it went down over the Atlantic. In the weeks after you got home – from what your father told me – you were drunk, significantly drunk for days on end. Do you really think that I would have let a special, Black Ops mission near Canada make the six'o'clock news? No, the small flight that you shot down in vaguely the same area the same week was not the flight that your little Livy's mother was on. Her mother was leaving me, she had figured it out and was going to seek asylum in England. I would have been exposed, and – I like to think of it as a coincidence from God."

"I didn't."

"Nope," Rowan popped the 'p' like he had been waiting to slap him in the face with it for years.

"Why are you telling me this?" Fitz was quite sure that this was the first honest conversation he had had with him, and while he was fighting the urge to suffocate him with a pillow, he needed to know before he walked out.

"Because I'm dying. And because now, she can't even stand to be in the same room as you. She'll stay in politics as long as she wants – and then she's free."


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Ok, so Fitz was sad, pathetic, and angry…. But now he's just angry, livid – furious (Because yes, we all love a angry, ballsy Fitz…) Enjoy this chapter (Which includes Drunk Olivia, which we don't nearly get enough of)… Enjoy :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Nineteen

Nathan was beaming the whole ride from the White House, their cab ride to the school, then got into their car. It wasn't really like Nathan to keep all his words in his mouth like he was on the drive to the school, but it was like the Nathan she was getting reacquainted with. Before James had died, he had always been blabbering on, they could barely get him to be quiet for a few minutes to calm down before bed. After she had explained what had happened to James, he had gone quiet. He had gone really quiet. At first she had let him take his vow of silence, because she figured he was processing, that he needed the time to figure it out for himself. When it hit the two week marker without a word, and she was a little concerned, and that was when she had decided to call in the therapist. She was a nice woman, and it had taken a couple weeks of it before he started to talk normally, and that was fine with her. Kids grieved in weird ways, and they didn't need to make sense to their parents – Olivia knew that better than anyone – and she was more than happy to let him do that. It was good to see him so happy though.

"What has you smiling so much?" Olivia teased him, pulling out of the school parking lot, trying to get him to talk a little bit – which she had found out that he didn't mind.

"The President was really nice," He said, like it was a surprise, and Olivia nodded, "He looked really sad, though."

"I think the White House gets lonely," Olivia told him as they sped off towards her father's hospital – this was the last subject she wanted to talk about.

"What do you mean?" Nathan asked curiously, and she watched him play with one of his toy cars in her rearview mirror.

"You know how in the summer, when you don't have school and your friends aren't around?" Olivia asked him, and he nodded.

"Yeah," Nathan said, spinning the wheels on his car, just to watch them spin.

Olivia was ready to let the conversation end there. The last thing that she wanted to do was talk with Nathan about Fitz. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about Fitz at all. If Nathan wanted to not really talk anymore, she wasn't going to fuel a discussion about him. Her insides were already burning, and slowly deconstructing themselves. How, and why, and most importantly how had she let him get to her that easily? What had he even done? Made a few vague comments? She was stronger than that, wasn't she? Wasn't she? Apparently not as she slumped down a little in her seat. Why did he always have to look so damn good? And she had no idea why she had said what she had. She had used the idea of meeting her late husband to make Fitz jealous. She gripped the steering wheel and felt hot, angry tears form in her eyes. She knew why she hadn't told him James was dead, it was just easier for him to assume that he was still around.

"Mommy?" Nathan asked as she reached up and carefully wiped the well-formed tear out of her eye.

"Yes, honey?" She answered, speaking as quickly as she possibly could – so that maybe her voice wouldn't crack.

"Did dad know the President, too?" Nathan asked, and Olivia took a deep breath.

"No, babe," She told him, "I knew the President a _very_ long time ago before I met your dad."

"Oh," Nathan replied, with emphasis on the 'O' – something that never failed to make her smile.

Olivia spent the rest of the ride trying to pull herself together. Her father might be extraordinarily weak, and impressively sick – to the point where he was bed ridden, could barely breath on his own, and was permanently hooked up to a feeding tube and IV – but he was still the menacing man that he had always been. She knew that if she went in there upset, and Nathan – even inadvertently – told him why, it was going to be a shit show. And as rocky a relationship that she had had with him, and how terrible a father he had been – she didn't want it to end that way. She knew what it was like to lose a parent, and it didn't matter – in the end. If for nothing else, she wanted to shield Nathan, and teach him the right thing instead of the bitter, or vengeful. She wanted that to stop before it got to Nathan. She had never left Nathan alone with him, and had never allowed him to hold him as a baby, but there were pictures that he was in, and it had been difficult, but it had been manageable.

"We're here?" Nathan asked, looking out his window as she parked the car, a few feet away from the front door to the hospital.

"We are here," She said, putting the car in park and shutting it off.

"Can we get Grandpa a balloon?"

"You know, if we get Grandpa a balloon we have to leave it with him," Olivia said as they got out of the car, and Olivia grabbed her little boy's hand.

"Can we both get balloons?" He asked, and Olivia smiled.

"I think we could do that," She told him, making a mental note to make sure the one for her father got was big, with bright colors, and was as obnoxious as possible.

Ok, so no one was perfect.

It did, however, put a smile on her face watching Nathan run around the hospital gift shop trying to pick out both a balloon for himself, and one for her father as well. He finally settled on one of the ones that was a giant earth, and children of all different races were holding hands around it, for her father. There was a big red heart obstructing most of the Earth's land, and there were tassel-like streamers coming out of some of the kids' hands. She didn't know how or why this had ended up in a hospital gift shop, but it was perfect for her reasoning. Nathan picked out one that was Lightning McQueen, from his favorite movie of the month, _Cars_.

"You're sure?" Olivia asked him as he met her at the register.

"Yes," Nathan nodded intently, and Olivia nodded on along with him.

"Ok."

She handed the girl behind the register cash, and waited for her to ring it all up before squatting down to be eye level with Nathan. She tied his car balloon around his wrist so that if he let go of the string it wouldn't go anywhere, and then carried the one for her father herself. They walked up to just outside his door, and the nurse that was passing them in the hall smiled as Olivia handed Nathan the balloon to give to her father. She gave him a quick warning keep hold of it tight, and then opened the door so that they could walk in. Nathan went running up to the side of the bed to show him the balloon and Olivia paused for a moment, looking directly at the man that she didn't know sitting on the far side of her father's bed. She was positive she didn't know him, but he had a familiar face. Lots of people had familiar faces.

"Grandpa, I brought you a balloon," Nathan said, allowing the balloon to float to the ceiling over the bed.

"I see that," He said, in a little less than friendly tone – he had obviously never been good with kids.

"Hey dad," Olivia walked the rest of the way in with a knowing smile, and the man stood up, "Who's this?"

"Jake Ballard," The man filled her in, reaching across and shaking her hand, as her father was catching his breath with his oxygen mask, "I've worked with your father for a long time."

"He was under me at the Smithsonian for years," Her father coughed, "He just came to visit me."

"I should get going, though," Jake said, waving to Nathan kindly as he headed for the door.

"Thanks for stopping by," Olivia said lightly, and Jake was gone.

"Grandpa, guess what?"

"What?"

"I met the President today," He said with a smile as he climbed up into the chair next ot his bed.

"You did?" There they were, he did have kid-gloves somewhere in his arsenal.

"Yeah," Nathan said, "And mom came with me."

"She did?" Not so kid gloves.

"Nathan managed to remember all of his lines," Olivia said as she took the seat that Jake had just vacated, "The President congratulate him."

"That's great," Her father said as he redirected his attention back to the kid, and Olivia rolled her eyes – she hoped subtly, "How's school going, you're still liking it?"

"He loves school," Olivia piped up for him.

That was all she had to say to trigger in the motorboat that was his mouth once he started going. He told him all about school, and what they had been doing – who his best friends were at school. She knew that her father could probably care less, but when she had talked to him – just before Nathan was born – she had set up rules. Rules for what he could and could not do or say, and he had agreed to them. If Nathan was sitting on a swing, he could go and push him, gently. He was to treat Nathan as important, no matter what was happening. Whether he was playing with his toy in the corner or if he was rambling on about his Kindergarten day, her father was to treat the little boy with respect, and make him feel like he was being heard. If he was crying, then her father was to tell her, and he wasn't allowed to do much else other than offer him food. The other option, if he hadn't gone along with her terms, was that she and James would not see him at all, and he would not know Nathan an at all. James had thought she was being a tad over protective, but he let her do it.

"Nathan," Olivia said, looking at her watch an hour later, "Why don't you go to the bathroom quick, before we leave?"

"Ok," He said, heading out of the room – to where there was a personal toilet the next door over.

"You saw the President today?" Her father said, as she moved his balloon over to the corner of the room for him.

"I did."

"How was that?"

"Nathan let him know you were sick, by accident," Olivia said, and he rolled his eyes, "He asked where you were – I don't know why – but it seemed like he might come visit."

"I don't know why he would," He retorted, and Olivia nodded.

"Well, if he does – I didn't tell him that James passed."

"Good," He said, nodding, then mocked, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Olivia said, "I loved James."

"I know you did," He said, nodding triumphantly, "He was a great man. A man to be proud of."

"Yup," Olivia said, feeling herself starting to get emotional again, and pushing it down.

"You love 'Fitz' too," He accused, and Olivia shook her head, "The guy who abandoned you at the airport."

"I do not," Olivia said, pointedly and her father rolled her eyes.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you have to be twice as good?" He asked her, "In politics, in everything - you have to be twice as good to get half of what they have. There are no short cuts, or cheats for us, Olivia. If you had stayed with him - "

"Yeah, ya know, Dad? You've been telling me that since before I was Nathan's age," Olivia told him, and he nodded, "And you know what? I am three times as good as everyone else. And I have double. Which is why Nathan is never going to know that phrase – and you're just wrong. You're miserable, and you're wrong."

"Mom?" Nathan said a fraction of a second later, standing in the doorway – just enough time had passed for him to have not heard, "You ready to go? I'm hungry."

"Ok," Olivia said, "Come give grandpa a hug, and we'll get pizza on the way home."

She got Nathan back into the car, and stopped by his favorite Pizza place on the way home from the hospital. She got one more than usual, knowing that once Nathan had gone to bed was when her night was going to start. She sighed as she put the Pizzas down on the Island in the kitchen, where Nathan climbed up on a chair as she set a plate down in front of him. He took a piece of pizza, and she went to get him a cup of juice as Abby walked in the door, a tote bag that Olivia knew was full of wine, and a box of Capri Sun under her arm. Olivia shut the fridge door as Abby took one out and handed him one.

"Thanks, Auntie Abby," He said, and Abby leaned down and kissed the top of his head, "No problem, kiddo."

Olivia smiled, and then caught a glance at the picture that was hanging up behind Nathan. It was an eight by seven picture of the three of them out in front of the house. Nathan was barely three years old, and James had him up on his shoulders. There was something strange about it now that he was smiling at the camera, he had a big, dorky smile that matched his glasses – because he refused to try contacts. He always teased her that it would change his eye color, and he knew how partial she was to the weird green color his were. His hair was curly and dark, almost black. She would have never given him a second look when they had met if it hadn't been for his persistence. She had met him at the Christmas party at her first law firm, which was right above the doctor's office he had been working at when she showed up. He used to get in front of her – sometimes via comedic ways, which never failed to make her laugh (a rarity then) – in line for coffee at the cart in the lobby, and pay for her coffee. He did that for almost a month before he finally worked up the nerve to ask her to meet him for lunch.

Dinner had followed pretty quickly after that, because he was quiet, funny, and sweet. He was kind, and he cared about everything. It took her a very long time to let him in, but when she did – it was because he was safe. He was a boring boy, and that was exactly what she needed. He wasn't intimidating, or going to pass her by. He was short, taller than her – but short, skinny - scrawny, and nerdy and he adored her. She learned to love him to, and they eventually got married. James used to joke that whoever she had been with before him had screwed up just enough to make her want to give a geek a chance. James had been funny, too. It wasn't until about a year after they were married that he had opened his own pediatric office, and started going to work at clinics for a week or two at a time once or twice a year. He wrote her love letters while he was gone, but he had fallen in love with helping children before he had fallen in love with her. He was a good man, perfect.

"Liv," Abby said, and Olivia sort of snapped out of it as she walked out of Nathan's room, having just tucked him in to bed.

"Yeah?" She said, and Abby was holding up a bottle of wine in each hand.

"Do you have a preference?" Abby asked her, "I mean, just for starters."

"Left," Olivia said, grabbing a slice of pizza as Abby poured them both pretty healthy glasses of wine.

"So, how was the White House?" Abby asked her, trying to sound casual as she handed her the fuller glass.

"I used my dead husband to make my ex-boyfriend jealous," Olivia said promptly, then brought her glass to her lips, refusing to take it away until the glass was empty.

"So it went well, then?" Abby raised her eyebrows, "James would be proud. Did he ever know…?"

"No," Olivia said, motioning for Abby to fill her glass again, "Are you kidding? Besides, what did it matter then that I had dated – briefly – the President of The United States?"

"Of course not," Abby said, but something in the look she was giving made Olivia think otherwise.

"He's such a jackass," Olivia said, sipping her new glass, and Abby nodded in agreement, "Fitz is. He's just such an arrogant little smug… He walked over to me."

"He did?"

"Yeah," Olivia said, nodding as she carried the still whole Pizza over to the coffee table in her living room, and Abby followed with a half a bottle of wine.

"That asshole," Abby plopped down on the couch next to her, as she started drinking from her third glass of wine in a very short period of time, "How dare he go up to you. He's the jackass that decided after you were both gaga over each other that he had to marry someone with a damn last name. He left you at a damn airport, out of no where, and didn't even leave room for a real reason he was leaving. Not to mention that he missed out on - "

"Well at least he looked miserable," Olivia mumbled, not really wanting to go where Abby was and Abby smiled.

"He always looks miserable," Abby said, and Olivia smiled, "I almost forget that he was that guy that used to come to our dorm with flowers and food enough for not just you, but me with that smile…"

"He has a cute smile," Olivia said, leaning back and feeling oddly confident as the alcohol was starting to numb her, a little bit, "He's always had a cute smile, it's the first thing that got me."

"Mmm…"

"Abby."

"Yeah?"

"I mean, he's sad, and miserable, and pathetic looking," Olivia prefaced, and Abby nodded, "But he looked good. He – I wanted to give him a hug, I wanted to tell him that everything was ok…"

"But he wasn't there to do that for you," Abby pointed out, and Olivia's drunk heart sank a little bit, she knew that Abby was right, and didn't really want to get too upset tonight, "Ever. Not with the break up – he ignored your call. Not with the – "

"James didn't ignore me," Olivia said, "James never hurt me like that. James was good to me. Fitz is an asshole, and he's a jerk – who the hell has the nerve to walk up and start talking to someone that they treated so badly? Treated so badly that someone else had to pick up the pieces? I fell apart.."

"I remember," Abby said, and Olivia nodded a little eccentrically.

"You held me together, you found me – all that blood," She said, taking a sharp breath, "You brought me to the hospital, and then you held me together with your hands until I could stand on my own. Did I ever thank you for that?"

"You have," Abby said, and Olivia nodded.

"That night, when I made that promise – no one was ever going to hurt me like that again," She said, and Abby nodded, "James…"

"James died, Liv," Abby reminded her, and Olivia nodded.

"I should go to bed," Olivia said, putting her hand on her forehead.

"Yeah," Abby said, handing her a huge glass of water, "Drink up first, though, ok? You'll thank me in the morning."


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Hello, all - I just wanted to thank you all for the awesome comments I've been getting for this story... they really make my day... anyway - enjoy the chapter :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Twenty

Above reproach, that was how he had been raised. He had been groomed his entire life to keep emotion in while he was in the public eye, and he couldn't believe that he was thankful for all the now – but he was. It was exactly the kind of restraint that had stopped him from smothering, or killing Rowan in some other way while he was sick and weak in bed. That was what Rowan had wanted, he was truthful almost the whole conversation – except for at the end. Rowan was never a man that wanted to be wasting away in a bed. And if he could, for a third time, cause ruin in Fitz's life – that was killing two birds with one stone, right? No, Fitz was not going to do that again, he knew the trick now, it might have taken him a bit longer than it should have – but he learned it. That's why he was staring at hole that he had punched in the wall of the master bathroom of the residence. If they asked when they came to fix it, he had slipped coming out of the shower, or something equally as plausible - something they wouldn't question.

Now he was sitting in the corner of the bathroom with his arms crossed, staring at the hole in the wall. In his defense, it was a little more constructive than killing Rowan would have been. It was a pretty good sized hole, to toot his own horn. That made him feel a little bit better. However, it didn't even come close to how good it felt to know that Rowan was in more pain that he could ever hope to inflict on him personally, and that he hadn't rescued him from it – even when he was baited. He took a deep breath, and looked down at his hand, which was bloody, because he had also thrown a punch at the mirror on his way into the room. Cyrus would come up with something to tell the people who came in to fix it all. It was impossible that Mellie hadn't woken up when he walked in – and busted up the bathroom - but he had shut and locked the door. There were three knocks on the door, and He popped his head up.

"Cyrus?" Fitz knew that he would be her first call.

"In the flesh," Cyrus said, "James wasn't too pleased that the first lady was calling me at about two in the morning. So it would be really nice if you would let me in."

"C'mon in," Fitz said, carefully getting up and going over to get the door, let him in, hopping over the glass that was all over the floor in front of the sink.

"Well, this certainly explains the crashing sounds that Mellie heard earlier," Cyrus said as he closed the door behind himself, and Fitz went back to his corner, "Nice, you did some damage."

"This is a way better result than the other option," Fitz said, mostly to himself as he went over to sit on the closed toilet, cradling his hand, and Cyrus very carefully plucked the first aid kit out of the destroyed mirror's medicine cabinet, "I don't think there's any more glass in it, I've been picking it out for like an hour."

"I'll give it a couple looks before we wrap it up," Cyrus pulled a stool over and sat in front of him, "Tom wasn't able to tell me anything about what happened tonight, but I did hear somewhere that you went to visit an Eli Pope, who I can only assume is Olivia's father. He's in the hospital, and for some reason I seem to understand that you left visibly upset."

"I did," He replied, nodding – but he didn't leave an outright murderer.

"I figure he's not doing well, then," Cyrus asked, "Were you two close?"

"He's dying," Fitz said simply, and Cyrus nodded, "And no, I wouldn't ever say that we were close. I need a glass of water."

"You can get it in a minute," Cyrus said and Fitz slammed his other hand against the side of the toilet.

"Dammit, Cy," Fitz said, his temper rising again, "I need some water, and I don't think you want me dripping blood all over the residence. Mellie certainly wouldn't like it - not that I really care, I've gotten pretty good at blocking her out. But you, you have a very specific job, don't you Cyrus? Your job is to make me presentable, and assist me in running the country. Assist."

"What does getting you a drink have to do with helping you run the country?" Cyrus asked, looking up at him angrily, pulling out a tiny shard of glass from his hand with particular vengeance.

"That might be a little above your pay grade," Fitz said coolly, and Cyrus leaned back – it wasn't often that Fitz's temper rose up that high, "Because you're the one who wanted this damn job, not me. But somehow, I was the poster boy because you couldn't run on your own merit. You hid, like a child, behind everything you could think of because you are scared. You were scared that you couldn't stand on your own damn two feet. That is why you _assist_ me. Because at the end of the day, it's my head. Not yours, not my fathers – Mine. The buck stops with me, and that means I want some damn water."

"Ok," Cyrus said, getting up and walking out to the kitchen, and coming back with a glass of water – which he took with his good hand.

"Sorry, some of that was below the belt," Fitz said, and Cyrus nodded.

"It's ok, Mr. President."

"No it's not," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "You asked me once, when I asked dad to find me a wife – I told you I was going to do that – what had gone so horribly wrong with Olivia."

"I remember," Cyrus nodded, "If I remember correctly, you never answered me."

"You didn't want me to marry Mellie."

"My friend was gone," Cyrus said as he was wrapping Fitz's hand up with gauze, "I didn't see how jumping into a marriage for no good reason after a serious break up that completely change who you were wasn't going to bring the old you back. A person can only take so much."

"Friend?" Fitz said, and Cyrus nodded, "You thought we were friends?"

"We have spent at least ten hours, on average, together every day for fifteen years," Cyrus said, and Fitz nodded, "You were my best man, when I married James. We used to be friends, when you were running. I was buffer between you and your father – We may not be friends in the traditional sense, but I think we're the closest thing that either of us has."

Fitz nodded, knowing that he was right.

"There's things that you were briefed on, things that you know that I can't because I am President," Fitz said, "However, before I was president, I grew up in a political family, so sometimes I have hints of things that I'm not supposed to know so that I can legally say that I have no idea that these things happen. Olivia's father, Eli, works for the Smithsonian, at least that's what she thinks. Except I knew him by another name – Rowan."

"Why the hell would you get into that?" Cyrus asked, "Why would you get involved with a CIA princess?"

"I didn't know – she doesn't have the best relationship with him, I didn't meet him until the end," Fitz said, "She barely talked to him, or about him – anyway, that's not the point. Whatever Rowan actually does, which I had already gathered was CIA, thanks for confirming - he was one of my commanding officers when I was in the Navy."

"Ok," Cyrus said, nodding.

"When I was in the Navy, I was ordered to shoot down a passenger plane, and he convinced me that it was the one that Olivia's mother was on," Fitz said, and Cyrus's jaw dropped, "He blackmailed me, made me leave her. And tonight, he tells me that lied. I had no hand in what happened to her mother. I ruined the best thing that ever happened to me. I broke her heart, I told her that I didn't think she was good enough for me – when the opposite was my only thought. All because he wanted his daughter as far from politics as possible – which is exactly where I would have been if it wasn't for him."

"Rowan is a very dangerous man," Cyrus said.

"Well he's lying in a hospital bed dying at the moment," Fitz said, and Cyrus nodded, "That why the mirror's broken, and there's a hole in the wall. It was the result of me not slitting his throat, or suffocating him."

"Does Olivia know what her father does?"

"She didn't then, I don't think she does now."

"Rowan is a very dangerous, very powerful man," Cyrus continued, and Fitz was trying not to be completely distracted by the pain in his hand – it almost felt good, he had hit that level of anger, and loathing, "If he didn't tell you that, he would have told you something else. Or he just would have had you killed – which might have been hard given your social stature – but he would have figured something out. It was probably best, what you did."

"Best?" Fitz said, through tears, and Cyrus looked at him with a little bit of difficulty, "I should have taken Liv and ran, or told her everything, or done something – everything I could to keep her. Anything but lying to her, and leaving her at the damn airport. Not answering her call when she did…"

"If you had taken Liv and run he would have hunted you both down, and killed her in front of you before he killed you," Cyrus said, and Fitz took a deep breath, "His wife was the same way – as soon as you crossed him, really showed him that you were a threat at all to him. He loves her as long as she's doing just exactly what he wants. He wouldn't have blinked before ordering someone to torture her in front of you. You did the best thing that you could have done, leaving her all those years ago."

"I was young, I was an idiot," He said, taking a deep breath, reining in his emotions, "If I went back, I could do something."

"You couldn't, Fitz."

"I could have changed it," Fitz said, getting up, and Cyrus didn't move, "I should have been able to stop this. She's not happy, with her husband. I can see it, and I'm not happy, either. I should have been able to protect her – Cyrus. She is the love of my life, and I couldn't do a damn thing. I couldn't even get him to promise me the he wouldn't hurt her once I was gone. And then I got drunk, I drank like I told myself I never would and I screwed Mellie when I was piss drunk trying to not miss Liv. But that didn't work, so I stopped drinking and I just miss her – every single fucking day. It would have been better if he had just killed me then.

"Fitz.."

He walked away, trying not to stomp his feet as he headed towards his guest bedroom. It was mess, he had just been throwing things around for about a week, and he just stripped down to his boxers and crawled into bed. He reached over and grabbed the sleeping pills he had stashed there for the occasional sleepless night, knowing that he would need it if he wanted any hope of getting any sleep that night. He was almost out by the time his head hit the pillow, and he was out cold until the next morning, when his alarm was blaring in his ear – trying to get him up to get to the Oval Office. His hand was still throbbing, and he took a deep breath as he got out of bed – he was going to need all the free air that he could get that day.

"Sir," Cyrus said, walking into the Oval later that morning, "They're fixing your bathroom as we speak."

"Thank you, Cy," Fitz said, and Cyrus nodded.

"If anyone asks you slipped coming out of the tub for the hole in the wall," He said, and Fitz nodded, "And the Mirror was broken by Mellie's hair straightener. She left it plugged in, I hear sometimes those things can overheat and cause things like glass on mirrors to crack – then shatter of their own accord."

"You're a genius," Fitz said, and Cyrus nodded.

"And you have two calls that I think might interest you," He said, and Fitz gave him a scowling look.

"What're those."

"One of them's from your old Navy Buddy, Jacob Ballard," Cyrus said, and Fitz nodded, "His phone number's on your desk."

"And the other one?" Fitz asked, picking up the sticky note that he assued was Jake's current number – he hadn't spoken to Jake in years.

"It's a girl who works under Olivia at Pope and Associates, which is how she got through," Cyrus said, and Fitz raised his eyebrows.

"Did she give a name?" Fitz asked.

"Abigail Whelan."

"Abby?"

"You know her?"

"She was Liv's roommate," Fitz said, looking around his desk for her number, "They've been best friends since they were kids. Did she leave a number?"

"She did," Cyrus said, taking a note off of the stack that he had, and he set it on the desk, "But I don't think that it's a good idea for you to call her back. I think you were a ticking bomb, but given what happened last night – I don't think you should call her."

"You don't think it's a good idea."

"I think you should call Jake back," Cyrus said, "I think that you should think about not calling her. Because I think that you have been emotionally compromised, and I don't think that it's good for the country for you to be in that sort of state. But I'm giving you the number, because you are the President, and I'm not."

"Thank you, Cy," Fitz said, taking a deep breath as he picked up the phone, taking Jake's sticky note.

"Ok," Cyrus said, heading out of the room.

Fitz called Jake, putting Abby's number into his drawer, not really sure that he wanted to talk to her. If at all, he would be calling her at the end of the day, or maybe when he was ready to get his teeth kicked in again. From what he remembered of her, she was always very much Olivia's attack dog. Which he had never minded when he was dating her, because that meant he never really had to worry about her hearing crap about him coming around. Abby would shut them up, and make sure Olivia wasn't studying too too hard and missing out on the rest of college. If he was going to get his gut ripped out, and his spirit squashed, he might as well go directly to the source. At least if he went straight to her, he would get to see her. To his surprise, Jake wanted to see him, so he had Cy call down to the security gate, and Jake was coming in around noon.

"Mr. President," Jake said, walking into the Oval, his hand out for Fitz to shake.

"Fitz," He corrected him, and Jake nodded.

"Of course, Fitz," He smiled, and Fitz nodded.

"I haven't seen you in years," Fitz pointed out, and Jake nodded.

"Well, we've both been busy," Jake said, his eyes shifting a little around the room.

"So what is it you want to talk about?" Fitz asked curiously, "You seemed a little urgent over the phone."

"Can we, ah," Jake moved towards the just his eyes up camera on the ceiling, and the microphone they both knew was attached to it.

"Ok, yeah," Fitz said, walking around the desk, and clapping him on the shoulder as he led him into the private study, and shut the door, "There's a camera in here still, but there's no microphone. Want something to drink?"

"No, thanks – I'm fine," Jake said as Fitz sat down on the couch, Jake took the one opposite him, "What happened to your hand?"

"Mellie broke the mirror last night," He said, deciding the party line was best, "It got all cut up, I'm fine. What was it that you wanted to talk about?"

"Do you remember that party we went to when Rowan asked us to show up?" Jake asked, and Fitz nodded – Jake had no idea how much he remembered it.

"I do," Fitz nodded.

"Well, afterwards," Jake said, "He pulled me aside, he was looking for you – but you had already left. So he took me aside, instead – and he offered me a job in the CIA."

"Jake…"

"I'm not going to tell you anything I'm not allowed to say," Jake said, and Fitz nodded, "And I'm not going to tell you anything your not allowed to know. Trust me…"

"Then why are we in the private study?" Fitz asked, and Jake shrugged.

"I don't think you want the Secret Service in on this, Sir," Jake told him, and Fitz nodded.

"Fitz, Captain Ballard," Fitz corrected him, and Jake gave him a weird look.

He should have warned him. He had only escaped whatever it was that Rowan ran because he had a warning. Fitz couldn't imagine living under Rowans thumb ever since then, what Rowan must have made him do. He took a deep breath, but he had taken the bullet. He didn't know if Jake recognized it – but that's what had happened. His father had warned him, Jake's didn't know enough to warn him. He should have protected him, he had been his commanding officer and he had dropped the ball in protecting him. Jake had been a like a little brother to him, and he had been so wrapped up in his own self hatred…

"You're blaming yourself, stop," Jake said, "I like me, ok? Don't worry about me, because unlike you – I like myself. I follow orders, and they are just that, orders. Someone's got to do it, and I didn't have a family, or a plan – so I'm ok. I didn't come here to squeal. I came here…"

"Why did you come here?" Fitz asked, and Jake took a deep breath.

"I came here because almost fourteen years ago I was put on a detail by Rowan himself," Jake said, taking a deep breath, "We was 'concerned' about his daughter, and he needed someone to keep an eye on her. The original plan was for me to be her boyfriend, but by the time I was in place – she already had one. Her father immediately liked the idea that she had an internal alarm to send her running from guys like me, guys like you. We very quickly learned that wasn't true."

"So you've been running surveillance on Liv?" Fitz didn't have any anger to spare for Jake, "This whole time?"

"Yes," Jake replied, and Fitz nodded.

"So you know everything that's happened," Fitz said, and Jake shrugged.

"More or less," Jake said, and Fitz nodded, "I don't know why you left, and I don't need to know – I'm sure he had something to do with it. But I spent a lot of time hating you, for hurting her. She – you weren't there, she was a mess, she – she wasn't ok."

"Neither am I," Fitz said, and Jake nodded.

"I know, I'm just here to say, now that it's relatively safe," Jake paused, and Fitz raised his eyebrows, "She needs you, Fitz."

"Captain Ballard," Fitz said, "She has a husband."

"Yeah," Jake said quietly, nodding, "But she doesn't need him. She needs you. I think you know that."

"I'm about done here," Fitz said, standing up, "Thanks for coming, Captain Ballard. I'll think about it."

"Ok," Jake said as Fitz took a deep breath and walked him back out to the Oval Office, and saw him through the door.

He looked over at the clock, realizing that he had to be in a meeting downstairs in five minutes. It wasn't until Cyrus delivered him back to the Oval Office, and helped him re-bandage his hand that he was permitted to sit behind his desk again. He leaned back on his chair, then noticed the little pink sticky note that had Abby's number scribbled onto it. He assumed from the first couple digits that it was her cell phone, and he picked it up, letting the sticky side adhere to his finger before taking a deep breath, and asking for an outside line. Any mention of Olivia was like a kick in the gut, and if he was getting it from Jake, he might as well see what Abby wanted. He owed her that much, right?

"Hello?" Abby's usual somewhat resting bitch voice answered as Fitz took a deep breath.

"Abby?"


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: So, if you guys read my little notes, this chapter is kind of like an aside, and it's a little short (but it's you're your second update today) because this chapter's going to be Abby-Centric, and then we'll go back for Olivia's turn. Enjoy :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Twenty-One

**December 10, 2001**

Abby took a deep breath as she finished up her makeup in the little mirror on her side of the dorm room. Olivia was sitting at her desk, she was weak, and she hadn't been eating properly, and she was still crying most of the time. Abby got it, she understood Olivia's pain. Olivia, she had been surprised about it, had thrown herself completely into her relationship with Fitz. And Abby had ben happy for her, they had been happy and Olivia had thought it was going to be endgame. Abby didn't see the harm in it, she was usually extraordinarily over-protective of her best friend, who was usually very reserved anyway – when it came to things like that. But Fitz had managed to weasel himself in there without any of either of their alarms going off. Olivia had been doing a little bit better, which was good. Abby was planning on taking her home with her for Winter Break, because she wasn't about to leave her alone. But now she seemed to be doing a little bit better, she was sitting up, and Abby had gotten quite a bit of liquid and a little bit of food down her throat.

"You're going to be ok, tonight, right?" Abby said as she ran a brush through her hair one more time, smiling at Olivia kindly.

"I'll be ok," Olivia told her, and Abby waited to see if she could see any signs of flinching, or lying – she saw no evidence.

"Ok," Abby said, slipping her phone into her purse, "I'll have my phone if you need me, ok? One call and I'll be right back here, ok?"

"Ok," Olivia replied a little despondently, and Abby nodded as she headed towards the door.

"Keep the TV off, ok?" Abby told Olivia, she had unplugged it, but she had a feeling that Olivia might turn it on.

They used to watch the news together, and Olivia and her would make jokes when they showed her Senator Grant. She would call him afterwards, and tease him about what he had said, or something. It had been fun, and usually ended up with all three of them (when Fitz was there) in tears laughing. She had never thought that he really thought very highly of himself. That's one of the things that she had liked about him for Liv. He was smart, he was cute, he was a little too dorky for her, but for Liv he was perfect, and the fact that he didn't really take himself too seriously. It was nice, until he apparently was way too full himself, and told her that she wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough – and Abby could feel her fists balling up by her sides.

"Easy, Abs," Her friend Nick commented as she walked out to the common room where he, and a couple of their other friends were waiting for her.

"Why so tense?" Another one of the guys asked her as she sat down on the arm of her friend Jessica's chair.

"Meh," Abby said, exhaling heavily as Jess looked up.

"Olivia's not coming?" She said a little sadly, and Abby shook her head.

"That's dumb, she's got to get out."

"I don't think she'll even be up to it for a while," Abby said, hopping back, and throwing her hair over her shoulder, "She was really sick."

That was her party line, for whenever someone asked her where Olivia was. She had gotten really sick, with some sort of weird bug that she wasn't getting rid of any time soon. It was a good enough cover up as to why Olivia was going to classes, and then disappearing into the abyss that was their room. She had decided it was best to just tell them she was sick, because it wasn't a complete lie, and she didn't have to explain the whole thing with Fitz. She also had the feeling that Olivia didn't really want everyone – or anyone – to know what was going on.

"Hey, so are we leaving now?" Andy asked, and Abby nodded.

"I guess," She said, and they all piled into the elevator.

It was Beta Kappa Tau's annual luau party, and it was one of the major events just off campus for the year. No one was in the dorms, and Abby was kind of excited to get out. The whole group arrived at the party, which was already almost out of control. They wouldn't be able to stay very long, Greg was like a bomb sniffing dog, and he knew exactly when to leave a party before the cops showed up to break it up. He could narrow it down to about ten minutes, and that was perfect. They would be almost back to the dorm by the time the cops pulled into the driveway, and knocked on the door to the house. Tonight was different though, Abby had gotten a weird feeling down her spine the minute they had walked into the party in the first place.

"I think I need to go back," Abby looked down at her solo cup, which was filled with the Frat's very own brand of Jungle Juice, she hadn't drank any of yet.

"What?" Nick asked, and Abby nodded.

"Something's not right."

"Are you turning into Greg on us?" He asked, and she shook her head – though she assumed that his feeling was similar.

"Nick, are you going to walk me back to the dorm, or no?" She asked him, putting down her cup, and he shook his head.

"You're not making any sense," Nick told her, as Andy walked over.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"I want to go back to the dorm," Abby told him, he nodded as he put his cup down,

"Sure," Andy said, "Let's go."

"Thanks, Andy," Abby said as they hit the street, and Andy nodded.

"What do you think it is?" He asked as they went quickly down the sidewalk, "Do you think it's Liv?"

"I don't know," Abby said, but that's what she was thinking, and he nodded.

"She kinda went bat shit after that Senator guy left her, right?" He asked, she could tell that while he wasn't the best with words, he didn't mean anything by it, "Don't worry – I don't think anyone else's picked up on it."

"She loved him, and he screwed her over," Abby said, "That takes a while to get over."

"I know," Andy said, "It's happened to me before, and it's took me almost six months. I saw him on the news the other night, he looked just as miserable."

"He was drunk," Abby said, and Andy looked at her funny, "He's been drunk at all his appearances since. Liv can't watch 'em, he covers it well – but he's been drinking pretty heavily."

"You think he'll be back?" Andy asked as they signed in at the front desk, and headed upstairs.

"I don't think so," Abby said, as the elevator doors closed, "And if he did, he'd be answering to me before he gets anywhere near her."

"You know, I always wondered why you two were still friends," He commented, "You're so different."

"We've been friends too long," Abby said as they got off on her floor, "We're more like sisters now. Wait here for a minute?"

"No problem," Andy said, as Abby walked into the suite that they lived in.

The door to their room was thrown wide open, and there were splotches of blood on the way out of the room. Abby ran into the room and there was a little puddle over by her bed, but Olivia was nowhere to be found. This was her worst nightmare, she had had it in the back of her head that she needed to keep an eye on her – but she had never actually thought that she would try something. It seemed so stupid to have ruled it out as she chased the trail into the bathroom, and found Olivia leaning against the far wall of the bathroom. She was sitting in a pool of blood, barely conscious as Abby got down, trying to get to her as she checked her wrists – nothing.

"I didn't-" Olivia started, as Abby cleared her wrists off and realized that she in fact hadn't, "I didn't know."

"What?" Abby asked, scanning the rest of what she could see for any signs of self harm, and then she looked down – and got it, "You're still bleeding."

Olivia nodded somewhat lethargically, and Abby nodded.

"Abby, I didn't know," Olivia said, and Abby nodded, "You have to tell him…. There's so much blood."

"It's ok, we're going to get you help."

"Andy!" She called, great she was doing this by herself, "Get your ass in here!"

"What's going on?" He came running into the bathroom, and stopped just short of where the blood was flowing fairly steadily, thick, and dark, "Holy shit."

"I need you to call for an ambulance," Abby told him, and he nodded, as Olivia lost consciousness, and Abby pulled her up and out of the blood she was sitting.

"Oh, that's disgusting," Andy said as Olivia was moved to a clean spot, and Abby went to dampen a cloth, "Ambulance is on the way."

"Thanks," Abby said, "You want to go meet them downstairs."

"Sure thing," He said, and he headed out.

It was a couple of minutes before the bathroom door burst open again, and they pulled in a stretcher. Abby tossed Andy her keys, and he nodded, understanding that he was following the ambulance to the hospital, as Abby watched them bring Olivia's weak little body up onto the stretcher and started strapping her in, putting an oxygen mask over her mouth. Abby took a deep breath as one of the cops who customarily went with the ambulances, and the RA peeked their head around the corner.

"Get maintance to come in and lean this up," The cop spoke to them first, "I'm not sure what you do for this, but get it cleaned up. Abby?"

"Yes," Abby replied, as they walked with the stretcher.

"Ok, Abby – what's your major?" He asked as they waited for the elevator.

"Pre-Law," Abby replied, taking Olivia's hand as she drifted back into consciousness, "We're both pre-law."

"Lawyers?" He asked and Abby nodded, "Ok, Abby do you know what happened here?"

"We can't really stop the bleeding here. She's a little weaker than she should be," An EMT called as they wheeled her in the elevator.

"Let me stay with her."

"Of course," The cop said as they rode the elevator down.

"Family," Olivia mumbled under her oxygen mask, and the EMTs leaned down to listen to her, as she pointed to Abby, "Let her know."

"Ok," The EMT said, nodding, "We'll let the doctors at the hospital know you want her informed."

"Do you know how far along she was?" The other EMT asked Abby, and Abby shrugged.

"We did know she was," Abby said, and the EMT nodded, then she started doing the math in her head, "It would have to be at least two and a half weeks?"

"This sort of bleeding wouldn't happen until five weeks," The female, EMT said, and Abby nodded, "Don't worry it's not uncommon to not realize it until about four weeks – if she wasn't expecting it…"

"Is there anyone else we should call?" The cop asked as they loaded up everything into the back of the Ambulance, "The father?"

"I'll call him, if she wants later," Abby said, and the cop nodded as they closed up the back of the car.

The ride over to the hospital was one of the longest trips Abby thought that she was ever going to take. Olivia was floating in and out of focus and consciousness, and every time she did it scared her nearly to death. She took a deep breath, and just held her hand, keeping her eyes on the ceiling as the sirens went. She wouldn't trade it for the world to be there with her – but she shouldn't be. She should have been calling Fitz about ten seconds after they called for the ambulance. Olivia wasn't the only one he miffed. Abby wasn't quick to let people in to her inner circle of friends, but she had considered Fitz on the fence and heading into it when they broke up. Olivia needed him, she could sit there, and she would be her friend, and she would hold her hand. But she was a poor substitute, and she knew whisked her off into surgery before Abby was even fully out of the ambulance. Andy sat with her in the waiting room, mostly in silence as he flipped through the channels. The nurse who had seen them came through and brought them a remote.

"How was the ride?" Andy asked, when it had been there for a few hours, and hey were still waiting for their first update.

"You can't say anything, to anyone," Abby said, and Andy nodded.

"Of course not," Andy said, taking a deep breath, "Did you call him yet?"

"No," Abby replied, and Andy raised his eyebrows, "Don't – "

"Ok, I may not have been in the inner circle with them, but he loved her – even if he doesn't anymore," He said, "I don't know what happened – but you don't just stop loving someone like that. Especially if this was supposed to be his kid. He should be here. I would be."

"He won't come," Abby said, "And it would be more upsetting to her if we call and he doesn't show up."

"That's not what you're afraid of."

"Fine, he's good – somewhere in there," Abby admitted, "He would come, but it wouldn't change anything. I'm barely getting her to eat properly again, she can't see him. He can't be sitting at her bedside when she wakes up just so that he can leave again. If she wants to call him later, and tell him – that's her business but she's not going to do it from the hospital, and when she's eating real meals."

"He should know – I would want to know."

"Andy, you are a way better guy than most," Abby said, as a nurse came up to them.

"Are you Abigail Whelan?" She asked, and Abby nodded, "I'm supposed to tell you about your friend. They were in and out quick, and she's waking up now, in recovery."

"Thank you," Abby said.

"They're just filling her in on everything now, she woke up pretty confused," She said, and Abby nodded, "I'm going to go and double check, then I'll come and get you."

"Thanks," Abby said as the nurse nodded and walked away, "You can take my car back, Andy. I'm not leaving tonight."

"I'm not going to just leave you two here," Andy said, leaning back, "I'll just be out here. I'll sleep on the couch over there."

"You're a good guy, Andy," Abby told him as she got up and Andy chuckled.

"Did you just compliment me?" He was shocked, and Abby gave him a quick smile before the nurse waved her over towards the nurses' station.

Abby took a deep breath, following the nurse over towards the ICU, where Olivia was apparently being kept. She took a deep breath before the door was opened and she was walked in. Abby walked in carefully. They had Olivia all propped up on pillows, a box of tissues right on her side, and an IV in her arm. There was a full dinner on her right next to the bed, and she had to assume that the doctors had noticed that she hadn't really eaten anything recently. Abby didn't realize that she was crying until she was sitting next to the bed, not sure whether or not she was helping or not so much as she took Olivia's hand. It took a couple more hours before Olivia could calm down – she was exhausted.

"Liv, you have to get some sleep," Abby said, and Olivia nodded.

"Did you call him?" Olivia asked, her eyes starting to close.

"I didn't."

"Good," Olivia said, forcing her eyes back open as she gave Abby's hand a little squeeze.

"You're ok," Abby told her.

"I didn't know." Olivia said, "The doctors said it was six weeks, I should have known."

"Liv.."

"If I wasn't so upset…"

"Liv."

"If I had known…"

"Liv, there was no way you could have known to be looking out for it…"

"Six weeks ago? This wasn't me. I was happy, and I was… an idiot."

"Liv…"

"No, this didn't just happen," Olivia said, wiping her eyes with a new tissue, and Abby got up to clean up the old ones from around her.

"Liv."

"Fitz's… My… If I had just been paying attention – If I had known that it was in there," She said, and Abby gave her a sympathetic look.

"It's ok, it's going to be ok," Abby told her, and Olivia took a deep breath.

"This isn't happening again," Olivia said, and Abby nodded, "I can't let anyone hurt me like this again. If I hadn't gotten so involved with it… I would have realized – that baby…"

"Hey, it's ok," Abby told her, catching her hand, "It's going to be ok."


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Hey guys! The updates might be coming in a little bit slower now, for the weekend - but don't worry too much, ok? Enjoy the chapter :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Twenty-Two

Olivia wasn't entirely sure where she was until she walked around the house, and into the backyard. That was when she recognized it as her father's backyard, and on the edge of it, her father and Fitz were standing – talking. James was with them, and she went over. There was a little bit of an inner struggle, as she paused between James – who she was so excited to see, and Fitz. She could feel herself actively missing James, but then there was Fitz. All the pain, and hurt and she looked right into his amazing blue eyes and she felt better, better than she had felt in years as she went over and linked arms with him. She looked over as Fitz wrapped his arms around her tight, like he was pulling her back together, and healing her – that was when she saw James' face. It had fallen, and she could feel herself falling inwardly. That was until James gave her a sad sort of smile, like he understood, and had been waiting for something like this to happen.

"James," She called, and he didn't say anything.

"Livy," She heard Fitz standing behind her, and turned around – he had blood all over him, dripping down his face

"Fitz," She said, letting go of him as the blood was turning darker, and flowing – seemingly out of nowhere, down him.

She turned to look at her father, and he was standing closer than she thought he was. Nothing was wrong with him, he was exactly as he always had been, except now she could see her mother behind him. She went to speak to him, but she couldn't. Nothing was coming out, and James was coming closer – like he wanted to help, but he couldn't do anything. She screamed, silently, like someone had ripped her voice box out, and Fitz was just standing there. The blood was starting to crust over, like it was a giant scab covering him, and then – it ripped open. Her feet were stuck in the ground, because apparently she had not realized that she was standing in mud, and that there was a huge rock coming down the hill, hitting her mother first.

She woke up with a start, and a little yelp. It was dreams like this that made her so happy that Nathan's room was far enough down the hall that he didn't hear her in her room. Like when she woke up yelling from nightmares, or she was crying at night – she did that sometimes. Iet didn't help, and she wasn't really an advocate of it, but it let her get the emotions out. It let her recapture her emotions, for her to take charge of them instead of the other way around. She laid there in bed, staring at the ceiling – she wasn't able to settle herself with this one. All the things – they'd show up – her mom getting killed by something strange, while her father did nothing, that had been one of the first ones she remembered having. Then James, he hadn't spoken in a dream since it was her waking up in the middle of the night right next to him, she figured it was because even her subconscious was telling her – he's dead, he doesn't have a voice anymore. Then, there was Fitz, covered in blood – that had shown up shortly after she had miscarried. She had long since figured that one out.

The fact that it was all in one dream was a little unsettling, mostly though, it was the backyard they were standing in, and the choice she had made. Why? Why would dream her pick Fitz as she was walking over to them both. She missed James, even in the dream she had been excited to see him, but why the hell had she gone over and linked arms with Fitz. It was strange. She knew it was her subconscious, telling her something that she didn't like, and she swallowed hard, and tried to push it behind her. But it was starting to eat at her heart a little bit. She took another, somewhat angry breath and flipped over onto her side. She still had a few minutes left until her alarm went off and maybe she could fall back to sleep and fix it. Except now she was staring at a picture of James's smiling face as he had a three and a half year old Nathan on his hip.

What the hell had happened? What had happened to her between the time that she was three and a half – smiling with her own parents, and now when she was lying in bed – alone. The list was pretty long. She lost her mother, grew her twelve year molars, was abused by her father, got dumped by the love of her life, lost his baby, became the widow of the guy that should have been the love of her life – and now she lived alone with her son. She was missing a few things, but she couldn't help but think about how the hell her life had turned into _this_? She had always thought that she would be – it just seemed lonelier now. That had always kind of been the case when she was thinking about Fitz - whether by choice or not. She kind of always had been alone, right? She had never really had anyone – she thought she had, when she was with Fitz. James would have been, if she had let him…

"Mom," Nathan called as he knocked on her door.

"I'm up, Buddy," She called as she headed towards her attached bathroom, "Go ahead and get dressed, and I'll meet you in the kitchen after my shower."

So, maybe she wasn't literally alone – but what had happened to the old Fitz. If she was being honest, she missed him flat out, always had – but that wasn't what she meant. She meant that she missed having someone who just sort of managed to show up when she needed him.

"Mom," Nathan said, and Olivia sighed thoughtfully as she was pouring cereal into his old Thomas the Tank Engine bowl, because it just happened to still be his favorite.

"Yeah, Sweetie?" She asked, putting it in front of him as she went through his backpack, making sure that he had everything he needed, and dropping his lunch box into it.

"I like when Auntie Abby comes over," He said, and Olivia smiled as she sat down across from him with her own breakfast, "You seem a little bit happier."

"You're going to Michael's house this afternoon, right?" Olivia checked with him, and Nathan nodded as he spooned a whole pile of little puffs into his mouth, "Can you remember to ask Mrs. Littleton to let you call me when you get there?"

"Yes," He said, and Olivia smiled, "You don't have to worry about me anymore, mom – I'm not a baby."

"Let me let you in on a secret," Olivia told him, trying not to laugh because he was being so very serious about it, "It doesn't matter how old you get – I'm always going to worry about you. Actually, I'll probably worry about you more – just in different ways as you get older."

"That's silly," Nathan replied, and Olivia chuckled.

"Eat your cereal, and finish your juice," She told him, as she got up and put her own plate into the dishwasher, "We have to get you to school."

She understood what Nathan was getting at, about worrying about him. She had always been a little bit of an over protective parent – James used to tease her that he would eventually be able to wipe his own nose, and walk without her carrying him. He had known she had lost a baby young – and therefore understood that she simply worried about him – had since the moment that she found out he was coming – but he made a point of trying to get her to realize that Nathan would be fine. That she was a good mom, something that she always was questioning. She thought that maybe she was doing a good job with Nathan, but it had been a lot easier when James was there to back her up on bedtime, and help her shuffle him around. But Nathan was pretty good about most things, anyway.

"Nathan," Olivia said, as she pulled up to the curb outside the front door to his school, "We're doing ok, right? Just the two of us?"

"Of course, mom," He said, and Olivia nodded.

"Ok," She said, in a resolving manner, "Remember to call me when you get to Michael's, _and_ I will pick you up there at five'o'clock, alright? After that you might have to come to the office with me for a little bit. Only for a little while though, ok?"

She said the last sentence like she was putting him out, and a huge smile went across her son's face. Nathan loved going to work with her. Usually, she just set him up in her office with a coloring book or playing a game on her ipad. It wasn't a permanent solution for having a six year old, and working late – but she couldn't really come up with something better. She preferred to keep him with her, and it saved her from finding him a sitter. It wasn't like she had family to leave him with – and usually there was at least one person who stayed at the office anyway. He didn't cause any trouble, and anyone coming in never really knew he was there. It worked out well, and for now it would work until she figured something else out. In the meantime, at least he didn't mind hanging out with them. He liked Harrison, and his Auntie Abby.

"How's the hearing?" Abby teased her as she walked into the office, and Harrison handed her a coffee.

"Thanks, Harrison."

"No problem."

"And thank you, Abby," Olivia said, sipping her coffee as her team sat down at the conference table.

"What else am I here for?" Abby said, leaning back and Huck gave them both a strange expression, which she wasn't exactly shocked about.

"You two got drunk last night?" Harrison checked looking from one to the other.

"We talked," Abby shot Harrison a look, "No boys allowed."

Olivia let them banter as she looked over the files that Huck had brought together for the day.

"You going to stick your tongue out at me, too?"

"Quiet," Olivia said, bringing one of the file folders to the top, then throwing it onto the table.

"We're taking this one," She said, "The Governor that was killed over the weekend, the prostitute called it in…"

"Poor guy."

"..when they just happened to be at the same party, and she was the first one to find him," Olivia said, and Harrison made a painful looking face.

"Ouch."

"Abby, call his wife, get her in here," Olivia said, and Abby nodded, as Olivia grabbed the file again, and headed into her office.

She had been pouring herself over the case file, writing little notes in the margins so that she could remember possibly strategies of attack. She was managing her case load just like she managed her cases themselves. If she did one big case a month, and filled in the rest with little ones – she could be home with Nathan. It wasn't like they didn't already have a good reputation. All they had to do was maintain it. This was what Olivia was telling herself until someone else who needed their help came waltzing through the front door in the middle of the night. But she couldn't do anything like that anymore, she had Nathan to think about. Except, all she could think about was the dream that she had had the night before. Why hadn't her father said anything in the dream?

"Huck, "Olivia called, loudly so that her voice would carry through the door, and the walls.

There was something wrong with the picture. Ignoring Dream-Olivia's folly in choices, his part wasn't explained. Fitz, she had figured out years ago, usually at some point appeared bloody because she felt guilty that she had never even tried to tell him what happened. She hadn't even picked up the phone to call him, to tell him that she had lost his kid in the months after it had happened. She understood that one. James, he didn't talk because he was dead – a ghost even in her dreams. Her father – just standing there, watching everything happen – not doing anything to save her mother. Not starting a fight with James like he usually did – and not lifting a finger for Fitz – if not only for common human concern. Basic human decency in seeing someone you know, or even if he didn't know him, bleeding like that. Covered so spectacularly -

"Yes, Liv?" Huck asked as he popped his head in the door.

"Come in," Olivia told him, and he nodded, "Shut the door behind you."

"What is it that you want?" Huck asked her, in that same hesitant tone that he always spoke in.

She hadn't asked him formally about his past. Though, based on his skillset, knowledge, and everything else that just kind of came along with him being Huck. He sat down, a little nervously as he waited for her to say something. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head, and Olivia just paused a second to watch him. This was exactly the reason that she had never asked. Everyone else – she had seen what had happened to them, fixed it herself. Huck? Huck she found, and started feeding him while he sat on the subway. He had acted as older brother in approving James, and she had given him a job as soon as she could. She brought him in as her personal 'guy' in her law offices – all of them. She had brought him with her, used him as an assistant, even though he was grossly over qualified for it.

"Huck, I was wondering if you could do me a favor," Olivia said, and Huck nodded slightly.

"What's going on?"

"This is crazy," Olivia said, taking a deep breath and leaning back in her chair, "You have better things to do."

"And you had better things to do than to feed me cheese burgers when I was homeless on the subway," Huck pointed out, and Olivia shook her head.

"Except I didn't."

"Olivia, why did you call me in here?" He asked her, "I'll tell you if you're being crazy."

"No you wouldn't."

"No," He said, with a small Huck equivalent of a smile.

"I want you to look into my father," She said, and Huck furrowed his brow as he just continued to listen, "His name is Eli Pope."

"Your father?" Huck asked and Olivia nodded, "The guy who's been working at the Smithsonian his whole life?"

"See, it is crazy."

"No," Huck said, but almost sounded like his own unique brand of sarcasm, "I'll look into it. I'll gather up a couple of things, and then get back to you if I find anything."

"Ok," Olivia said, and Huck nodded.

"Was there anything else?" He asked, and Olivia went shake her head, and then stopped herself.

"Where are you with the security footage from the street that you're cleaning up?" She asked him, "The one that showed just outside the party?"

"I've got the prost- woman going into the party with someone else," Huck said, and Olivia nodded.

"That's good."

"But we don't…"

"We don't slut shame – she's got her reasons for her lifestyle," Olivia said, and Huck nodded as Olivia took a deep breath, and stared up at the ceiling for a second, "We have to find a way to take the blame off of him, without making her the center of it all. If we can take some of the speculation off of who the girl was…."

"We could make it about the guy," Huck said, and Olivia raised an eyebrow.

"Not many people really do look at the woman," Olivia said, and Huck dipped his head a little instead of nodding, "It's a gross double standard – but if we can make it about the guy that she did show up with. It will take the pressure off the Governor, and it'll fizzle out because what kind of news is it that prostitutes sometimes party with government officials. And I'm guessing their 'date' didn't end as planned – so technically it would be a case of entirely legal escort service."

"Should I let Abby and Harrison know?" He asked, and Olivia nodded.

"Tell them to be back in the conference room at four so we can put together a statement," Olivia said, and Huck nodded slightly, "That way we can have it ready, approved, and looked over by the widow before it airs."

"Ok."

"And Huck," Olivia said, and he paused, "Once you have that ready, release photos to all the major news networks – make sure his face is clear, and they'll have no problem identifying him. Make sure they can assume who she is, but her family who knows her by her real name won't realize what happened."

"I can do that," Huck said, and Olivia nodded, "Liv?"

"Yes, Huck?"

"You're not crazy," He said, taking a breath before adding, "How many times have you told all of us that you go with your gut. It would be a weird time to change that now. I've been around you long enough to know that if you think something's up, or something's not how it's supposed to be – it probably isn't."

"Thanks, Huck."

Olivia went back to the case folder, trying to keep going through it. If she was going to take a lighter load, she had to make sure that the cases were as water tight as they could possibly be. There was no way she was going to let something so arbitrary, and easily fixed be her downfall. She would be the quickest joke in the world, a punchline. She was never going to be that. Once the widow arrived, she called Abby back to interview her – she had learned pretty quickly after James that she couldn't do those anymore. They were a little too intense for her to deal with, and Abby was just stoic enough to work with them without upsetting them too much by getting overly emotional. At the end, Abby read her the statement that they were planning on releasing, and after Olivia hung up with Nathan, calling just as he promised – they convened again to make sure that they had everything all set.

"Hey, Liv," Abby said as her phone started ringing, and the rest of the room went a little quiet, "I have to answer this – mind if I step out?"

She was already half inside her office and slammed the door behind her before anyone could say anything.

"It's been weird around here," Harrison commented, and Huck raised his eyebrows – he didn't say anything.

"It's fine, Harrison," She told him, and Harrison rolled his eyes.

"You've been locking yourself in your office as much as possible," Harrison said, "So we've all been working out of our offices – which isn't how we run business. You and Abby got drunk last night, and I don't know if that's something that happens – but it's definitely not something that's hinted at the next day."

"I had a rough day."

"Now Abby's getting mysterious phone calls?"

She was curious about that too.

"It's fine," She told him again, and he sighed.

"Never trust a woman when she says it's fine," Harrison muttered, mostly under his breath – she was trying to figure out whether or not to comment or let it go when Abby walked back out of her office.

"I have to go," She said, and Olivia couldn't think of a single time when she had done this before, "I'll be back in a couple hours, tops."

"O-k," Olivia was a little shell shocked, and Abby was already out of the door before she could fully process.

"It's never 'fine'." Harrison rolled his chair back.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: Hey guys…thanks again for all your comments… and now since I've made you wait so long, hopefully I didn't disappoint…. enjoy :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Twenty-Three

"…Abby?"

"Oh, his highness has decided to answer my phone call," She said, somewhat hushed – then he heard a door shut in the background.

Typical Abby – he had seen her take the same tone with some drunken frat boy in the dorm once. Abby was a force to be reckoned with, which made sense, because so was Olivia. He had gotten to see the softer side of Olivia, he had never – except for maybe the other day, but he suspected not – fully been on the receiving end of one of her attacks. He assumed that they had always been friends for a while, even if back then he had wondered a little why they were, still. Abby always seemed to be the more outgoing one, while Olivia sat quietly, let you talk yourself into a hole, and then completely threw out what you said, and proved you wrong with one single word, or a short phrase. She quietly considered what you were saying, and then came up with a quick way to completely destroy you. Abby was much more in your face, and much more often wrong – though that was judging up against Olivia, she still had a pretty good record.

"Technically, I'm President," He corrected her, feeding into her comment, "We don't have royalty, and kings and all that in America."

"I take it this is a secure line," She commented.

"You think I'd let anyone hear your colorful personality?" He asked, getting up out of his chair and heading around to step into the middle of the room, "What was it that you wanted to talk to me about? Or did you just call me out of nowhere after quite a few years to…"

"You need to stay away from her."

What was this? Random 'friends' from the past show up to give you counter-productive advice on something that you had no idea what to do about in the first place. But these were two people that had seen what had happened to Olivia since he had left. That's why it confused him so much that they were giving him opposing advice, and he took a deep breath as he sat down on the couch. Jake had apparently been watching from afar, and Abby he only assume had been right there with her for most of it.

"Why don't you come in?" He asked, putting his hand up on his forehead, barely resting it as we waited for Abby's outrage, "I'll call down to the security gate…"

"They shouldn't let me in," She mumbled under her breath

"What?"

"Nothing," Abby said, like she couldn't be bothered to explain, "Why do I have to come in, and see you in person?"

She said the last bit like he was the exact last person that she wanted to see, ever. He couldn't really think to blame her, but he needed a little more to go on. He needed an explanation of why, if Jake was telling him one thing, and Abby was telling him another – he needed a little more information. Preferably, it would have been from both of them – but he had a good idea of what Jake had become. Just the fact that he had stepped out of line long enough to come and set up a meeting with him was all he was going to get out of him. He was a good soldier, and once that was in you, there was no getting loyalty to anyone else back. It was shocking he had managed to hold onto just a little bit – the only problem was Fitz couldn't figure out who he was being loyal to - him or Olivia. If it was Olivia, he was extra confused, because there was no question for Abby.

"Because if you're going to give me such important advice, you might as well come and say it to my face," Fitz said, baiting her into getting angry enough to storm right into his office – he heard her sigh.

"You better call down to security now, because I'll be there in ten," She said, and Fitz nodded.

"I'll call down – "

He didn't get to finish his sentence before the phone line cut off, and he assumed that she had hung up. He also assumed that she had done so violently, he had no evidence to support it, but he had a pretty good hunch that she had. He put the phone down for a minute before picking it back up and calling down to the security office himself. That always managed to get whoever he wanted in without too much trouble. He took a deep breath as he leaned back, staring up at the ceiling of the Oval Office. How had he gotten here? In all of his wildest dreams and nightmares – this was never the endgame. This was never what he wanted. He didn't want the big White House, he didn't want any of it. He would rather be sitting somewhere with Olivia. He didn't care if he was a fisherman, or a taxi cab driver. If he could just go back, rewind all of it – he wouldn't have met her when she was twelve, he wouldn't have met her again once she had grown up. If things were meant to be, didn't they always end up that way? No matter what course you took, it ended you in the same place, that was the point, no? And yet here he was.

"Sir," Lauren, his personal secretary popped her head into the doorway, "You have a vistor."

"Abigail Whelan," Fitz said, and Lauren gave him a confused nod, clearly because he hadn't told her that she was coming in, "An old friend, let her right in for me?"

"Of course," She replied, and Fitz nodded as he stood up, and went over to shuffle things around on his desk – making sure everything was in the right place, and some other things that shouldn't be out weren't.

He was expecting to be waiting at least another few seconds for Abby to be let through the door – but he was very predictably wrong. Abby brushed by Lauren before she had even fully vacated it, and she walked right over to him. She was standing possibly less than a foot away from him by the time he heard the door slam behind her. She looked at him quite intensely, and he actually was startling to get a little concerned, taking a step back. It didn't help, because she took a step closer to him, raised her hand a little – like she might slap him, and then turned around and walked away again.

"Just stay the fuck away from her, ok?" Abby said, and he raised his eye brows – she had nearly yelled it at him.

"Sir," Tom came running into the room, and eyeing Abby wearily, "Is everything ok?"

"Everything's fine, Tom," Fitz waved him off, "We were just going to head into my private study, right Abby?"

"Right," She replied as she followed him into the private study, and he closed the door gently, "You're a hot shot now."

"You know you're possibly the first person that I've met since I took this job that is more afraid of Tom than of me," He said walked over and got himself a glass of water, he put one for Abby on the coffee table near her.

"Well, at least you got what you wanted."

"Excuse me?"

"This is what you wanted when you dumped Liv like yesterday's trash, right?" Abby said, her words were harsh and direct, "You wanted the pigeon haired, pearl wearing wife – not the ballsy, true, and beautiful woman that you had, once. You got your dream job, and you don't have to play nice anymore. So why are you thinking about screwing her over again?"

"What?" Fitz said, more to just the last sentiment.

"You fucking jackass."

He had known that he wasn't going to be getting a 'Mr. President' out of her, and he hadn't wanted one. But it had been a long time since something like that had been shouted at him.

"I haven't bothered her, yet," Fitz said, and Abby raised her eyebrows, "She's been in DC permanently for eight years. It's been on my radar, and I've ignored it. I let her go, Abby. She came here, what was I supposed to – "

"And you screwed her up!" Abby said, and he was sure that her blood pressure was reaching dangerous levels, "You didn't see what she was like after you left. With no real reason, because we all know – or at least we all thought you were better than that. Smarter than that. And last night was the first time I've seen her anywhere close to a situation like that since – "

"She's not ok?"

"Of course she's not ok!" Abby said, angrily – it was more of a growl than anything else, and Fitz froze, "Of course she's not ok. She fell for you in the first place, so we should probably already be having her head examined. But no, she's not ok – well, she is. She is ok, she's Liv. She's never not going to be 'ok'. It's more the fact that she hasn't been 'Liv' the one you and I remember since you just left her there on the damn sidewalk, with her luggage. She loved you, I don't know if you know how rare that is for her – but you just left her out there on her damn ass. And now, thirteen years later you just walk over to her. She had no choice but to go. She's an idiot when it comes to you, but she knew it was a bad idea – and what happened with the baby – "

"Nathan?" Fitz said, one eyebrow lower than the other as he tried to understand her train of thought, "I met him, he seemed fine. Good kid."

"She's not ok! And you hanging around and trying to talk to her – it's not going to help," Abby said, and Fitz took a deep breath as he blinked.

"What makes you think I'm ok?" Fitz replied, "What makes you think I haven't regretted that minute since the second it happened."

"You're full of shit," Abby told him, "She called you. She called you, I called you in the week after it happened…"

"I didn't answer because I couldn't," He said.

"Will all due respect, Mr. President?" Abby said angrily – there was absolutely no respect in the statement, but he wasn't about to call her on it, "I don't fucking care. I don't need to hear how sad you've been. How tough it's been riding out a life that's been planned, bought, and paid for for you. How rough and tough it's been to sit around and do as you were told. You're a coward, and I'm just here to make sure you stay that way."

"Abby-"

"I have taken care of her until she met James," Abby replied, "You have to just suck it up. Now is not the time to grow a conscious."

"What the hell are you talking about, Abby?" He asked, "If Olivia and I are going to talk again, she's a big girl. If I remember correctly, she can more than take care of herself."

"But she's not the Olivia you remember," Abby told him, her voice rising slightly again, like this was exactly the point she was trying to make the whole time, "And she's not a 'big girl' when you're involved. She's nineteen, and you're fucking with her head. You're married, and…"

"She's married too," Fitz pointed out, "By the way, if she's so 'destroyed' how's her husband doing with that? James? That she's so upset about an old boyfriend? Or does he not know?"

"James is away," Abby said with a little swallow, "And it's not that simple. She loves James, he treats her well. He loves her, and he wouldn't ever hurt her like you did."

"He's a lucky guy," Fitz said, and Abby narrowed her gaze.

By birth, he was able to be with Liv because his family wasn't political. As if he wouldn't have picked to be born into any other family in the United States over the one he had been. Well, he wasn't sure he could trade his mother – but maybe she would have been better off if she had never got together with his father. Once the time machine was built, that would be the first thing that he would fix.

"So tell me," Fitz said, continuing the conversation, "If she's so in love with this James guy, what the hell are you doing here? Why the hell are you bothering to come and tell me that I'm not allowed to talk to another adult human being?"

"Because you can love more than one person," Abby said, her temperature rising, quite visibly, "Because you broke her damn heart without even the slightest amount of an explanation. Nothing."

"You've said."

"You broke her damn heart, and disappeared!" Abby was nearly gone in anger now, her fists balled at her, "You left her pregnant and alone, and – "

She seemed to realize what she had just told him and stopped, like she had let it slip out before she knew that she was going to say it. The words rang in his ears as he took a deep breath, there was a pain in is chest but he ignored it. He was waiting for her to take it back, and deny it – say she was lying – but she didn't. The look on her face was as if she couldn't believe that she had been the one to tell him. She looked guilty, like she had betrayed someone – and Fitz assumed that she thought she had betrayed Liv herself. He collapsed back onto the couch, not sure if he had done it of his own will, or if his legs had quite literally stopped working.

"What?" Fitz said as Abby still seemed to be just frozen to the spot on the floor.

"I should go," She said, and Fitz shook his head.

"No, stay," He said, "Nathan's too young… I can't be- I have a twelve year old running around somewhere? "

"Of course not Nathan," Abby said, and Fitz took a sharp, painful breath, "He's James'."

"And James is away?"

"Yeah," Abby said, and Fitz nodded.

"I need to talk to her."

"No," She said as she headed for the door, "You can't, haven't you been listening? You can't go anywhere near her."

"You just told me that I have a damn child," Fitz said, getting up to his feet as Abby reached the door.

"She miscarried, Fitz," Abby said, and he fell back down to his seat again, "She lost it before she even knew she was pregnant. She wasn't taking care of herself right, and she didn't have the capacity to realize – You broke her heart as much as a twenty year old can handle – and then you broke her worse than most grown women. She was just a kid – and I didn't think she'd ever recover from that. Then, she had Nathan – that angel of a little boy. You need to stay away, Fitz. You're bad news."

"Did she call me after? Was that one of the phone calls that I ignored?"

"No," Abby said, shaking her head, "But that doesn't pardon you, either."

He couldn't even regain enough mental capacity to even start to form a response. So, he just sat there, slumped in his chair as his mind started to turn. Abby left, but he barely noticed. No. This couldn't be what had happened. He hadn't abandoned Livy, his perfect Livy, with their unborn child. An unborn child that she later lost. His only child. He had left him, or her. All his fantasies of his baby girl running around with Olivia's curls and a huge smile on her face. The little dresses, him carrying her around on his shoulders while he held Olivia's hand and they walked down the boardwalk. The little boy that he would race across the beach, letting him win so that he could scoop him up run with him once he had finished. Toss him into the ocean waves as Olivia laughed at them, called them 'her boys'. He would look like Nathan – minus whatever features he had gotten from James, but Fitz doubted that was much.

Nathan was a spitting image of his mother, just as he had always hoped their children would be. There wasn't even a question in his mind when the boy walked out onto the stage – amazing and adorable – just about everything about him screamed Olivia. As much as he tried not to, it made him hate this James guy. What was he, a fucking saint? The way people talked about him, he was better. He was just better, and Fitz wasn't even prepared to equip himself. James was there, he picked up the pieces, he made her what she was today – not Fitz. He was the father of her child, the little boy that asked her to go to the white house with him. A little boy that she loved so much she couldn't say no to on something like that – even knowing how much it would hurt her. He took a deep breath as the door swung open and Mellie walked in, whirling like a hurricane.

"We could hear half your argument," She squawked like a crow as she burst in, "Was that another old girlfriend of yours? They're sure picking one hell of a time to come out of the woodwork. Lauren told me her name was Abby? When did you date her? Before or after Olivia?"

"I didn't date her," Fitz said, not moving his eyes from the spot on the floor that he had been staring at, "She was Livy's roommate."

"'Livy'?" Mellie said, trying to pick a fight – she always was trying to pick a fight – like she was trying to challenge him into caring about her – he never cared about anyone but Liv, and that wasn't changing, except now his heart was aching for their child, "That's adorable, Fitz. What'd she call you?"

"Handsome," Fitz answered distantly, not really paying attention as Mellie just got angrier and angrier in the background.

"When is this stupid little whore going to go away?" Mellie asked and Fitz glared over at her.

"Let's keep something straight, Mel," Fitz said, getting up and rolling up his sleeve, not sure his feet would hold him up until they did, "You're the one whose father basically sold you to my family. Her father was the one who that she was and is a goddess, she's a saint, and a – she's everything. He knows that – and he knew that I wasn't nearly good enough for her. However, something I didn't realize until today – it wasn't his call. It was never his call, and I don't give a damn what he did for a living. It was her call, and she loved me too. I have to get out of here."

He was waiting for an indignant 'Fitzgerald' to be yelled after him but he didn't hear one even as he was passing Lauren's desk.

"Send Cyrus up to the residence, please," He said, his voice still not quite feeling like his own, "And cancel the rest of my day – I have to…"

"Sir, are you ok?" Lauren asked as his chest panged again.

"I'm –

"Sir? Mr. President?"

"Tom!" He called, not sure how loud his voice would go, "Get an… ambulance."

"Sir!"


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: Ok, sorry this took so long :( I got a lot busier than I thought I would be… enjoy :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Twenty-Four

Olivia sat, leaning against the hood of her car as she watched Nathan. He had asked on the way back from his therapy appointment to stop by, and she didn't see why not. She had taken the rest of the day off, and what was more important than bringing Nathan to visit his father's gravestone? It was starting to be less often, it used to be just about every day that he asked to go, but now it was slowing down. It was once or twice a week, and when she pulled his therapist aside to talk to her, she had said that it was normal. That Nathan was starting to feel better about his situation, and getting into a better routine to deal with it. She herself, she was waiting for Nathan to start asking questions. Questions about why James was only there half the time. Why James had been away, and in danger instead of safe and home with them. Why, in turn, James wasn't there to coach his little league team, or teach him how to drive. She was way more concerned with that stuff – because those were the questions that she was struggling with now.

"Nathan, c'mon," Olivia said, as Nathan finished telling James' stone about school, and put his flowers down to replace the old ones, "We're meeting Auntie Abby, Huck, and Uncle Harrison for dinner, remember?"

"Ok, mom," He said, and Olivia nodded as she opened up the back door for him to climb in.

"So how was school today?" Olivia asked, usually when he spoke to James' stone it was general, and selective – and she usually stood far enough away that she couldn't really hear him.

"Ok," He said, sighing a little bit, "We wrote get well soon cards to send to the President."

"You did?" Olivia asked, and Nathan nodded – Olivia was starting to get used to hearing about him in conversation.

"Yeah, he had to go to the hospital the other day because he was sick."

"They're saying it was just an unusual amount of stress," Olivia said, and Nathan nodded slightly, "Ordinarily they would have sent him home – but they kept him because he's the President. I think he went home today."

He must've really loved that, she had a feeling that them telling him that he had to stay a couple of days might have ticked him off slightly. It made her oddly happy though.

"Did he call you?"

"No."

"I thought you guys were friends," Nathan asked curiously, "I tell Lily right when I get back to school if I'm feeling better. Same with Mike. They wonder where I was when I miss a day of school…"

"You have good friends," Olivia mused, and he smiled.

"The President isn't a good friend?" He asked and Olivia took a deep breath.

"He was - but it's just that we used to be friends," She tried to explain to him, and it was very clear that Nathan did not at all understand what she was saying.

"Huh?" He asked, "Did you guys get in a fight? Did you not want to be friends with him anymore, mom?"

Yeah, sure – let's go with that. No, she was raising this kid right, wasn't she?

"Well it's not always like that," She told him, even though it was, only he didn't want to be 'friends' with him anymore, "Sometimes as you get older to just sort of grow apart, and don't talk to some friends anymore."

"It looked like he still wanted to be your friend," Nathan said casually as she pulled into the parking lot outside the restaurant.

"That's enough," Olivia told him, and he nodded, "No more talking about this, ok?"

"Ok," He sighed in discontentment, and Olivia gave him a small little smile as she parked the car.

"So what do you want for dinner?" She asked, opening the door for him and he hopped out onto the pavement.

"Chicken nuggets."

"I think they might have chicken fingers."

"Ok."

It was a small place, almost bar-room sized, but it was a lot more kid-friendly than a bar. It had a corner with video games, and old arcade games that Harrison was working on teaching him how to play. They had a jar that they put spare quarters and things in at work so that he could bring it when they went to dinner once or twice a month. Nathan's face lit up as they walked in, and he saw Harrison sitting in one of the booths, Abby was next to him, and there was a small jar of quarters sitting in the middle of the table.

"Where's Huck?" Olivia asked, as she sat down, and Harrison took Nathan right over to the video games.

"He was working on something," Abby said casually as she spun the straw around her drink, "He seemed really into whatever it was that he was working on. He told us to come, that he'd meet up with us if he was finished and we were still here."

"Oh," She said as their waitress came over and handed put her usual glass of water in front of her, she thanked her with a little smile.

"How's Nathan doing?" Abby asked her, and Olivia shrugged.

"His therapist says he's making progress."

"That's good."

"Mhmm," Olivia said, "And we stopped so he could talk to James on the way over here."

"Ok," Abby took a deep breath, "I don't care what that lady he talks to says, that's just weird."

"If it's giving him closure – and it's how he wants to grieve, then I'm going to let him do it," Olivia said, "And she didn't say anything other than as long as it starts to taper out, then it's fine. And it is slowing down."

"Yeah? He's slowed down with the whole creepy kid going to talk to his dad's grave?"

"Abby," Olivia said somewhat slowly, like she was warning her, as she pulled out her phone and hit refresh on her saved search.

"Olivia, he's fine. He went home today," Abby said, taking on a much more caring sounding tone than she spoke in usually, "You can stop check-in your phone every five to six minutes. The guy had a panic attack, which they glorified in the media so that no one would automatically realize that America has a weak, stupid, moronic, and sick president."

"I've just wanted to make sure that he's ok?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I just do," Olivia said, awkwardly – there were no new news articles about him.

"Liv, you can't just keep worrying about him."

"I'm never not going to worry about him," Olivia told her, "I'm never – just, stop, ok? Just think about it as me making sure our President is in good health."

"No. We both know that he's not a strong president. It's what we've always said. Even when you were dating him You used to tell me that he would be ok at it, but he wouldn't be great. That he would get there and he would do a good job. He would be a good president but his heart wasn't in It. It's not what he wanted to do, it's what he was pushed into doing. The presidency is not a job you can handle just being placed into."

"Enough, Abby," Olivia said, raising her voice just enough for Abby to realize her seriousness, "He's good at his job."

"Yeah, but he's not great," Abby argued, taking a sip of her drink, "It's in there somewhere he just won't get to it because he doesn't want to."

"Abby, I was wrong," Olivia admitted, shrugging, "Because clearly he did want it. I clearly didn't know him half as well as I thought I did. He wanted to be president more than he wanted me."

"We all watched the same election, Liv. He would have rather been anywhere else."

"Where did you say Huck was?"

"In his office, he said something about some side project you asked him to look into. He said it was the first chance that he had gotten since you asked."

"Oh, right," Olivia said, getting up to go get Harrison and Nathan back to the table, "I almost forgot about that. Call him and tell him it's not all that important. He can do it in the morning. He doesn't need to skip dinner over it."

"We have a little more to go," Nathan told her.

Harrison had him standing up on step stool, near the air hockey table. Olivia nodded slowly, and then took a seat at an empty nearby table as they went on to finish their game. What was there for Huck to find in her father's past, in his documented history? There couldn't be all that much, he existed, was married, had a daughter, went off his rocker, his wife died, and then what? He sent his daughter off to school and continued on in his life like he didn't have one, except for paying for school, and meals, and dealing with her being there in the summer. She couldn't even entirely figure out why she had even asked Huck to look into it in the first place. She should have had him look into James, look into the mudslide – but she didn't. She knew what the motives were there. They weren't a mystery. James had been many things, and most of them good, but he had never really been all that mysterious.

She knew that he thought of going to these places and helping where he could was a way of paying the world back. But she had always wondered if he thought about the school bake sales and parent nights that he missed for Nathan. Parent teacher conferences, and the nights that she had curled up in bed and felt lonely. She knew she sounded whiney, and annoying those kids without proper doctors should just have to deal, because she needed James at home. No, that wasn't necessarily what she meant – she meant why did it have to be James? Why did it have to be her husband that was away so often, missing so much, and only to come home for a little while and everything was just peachy. She would never get those nights were she was lying there in bed alone back, angry momentarily that he wasn't there back, because those were all of her nights now. Without him there to curl up against, have his arms around her – there was nothing to do but stare at the ceiling and think about - things. Things that she didn't really want to think about – but now there was no escape.

Huck didn't show up to dinner, even after Abby's phone call, and after several texts to the effect that he should get down there to eat, as soon as possible. By the time they were loading up the cars, she knew that something was wrong. She held Nathan's hand as they crossed the street back to the parking lot – and Abby held the other one as they walked up to their line of cars.

"Hey, would you mind taking Nathan back?" Olivia turned to Abby, who lived the closest, "And stay with him, get him into bed while I go and check on Huck?"

"Of course not," Abby replied, as they paused in front of the cars, where Olivia went down to be eye level with him.

"You're going home with Auntie Abby," Olivia told him, because she always thought that it was important for things to be explained to the kids as well, instead of just talking over their heads, "I have to run back to work. I'll wake you up for a kiss good night when I get home, ok?"

"Ok," He said, letting go of her hand, "Night, Mommy."

"Good night, sweetie."

Olivia was about halfway back to the office when she got a horrible feeling falling into the pit of her stomach. She gripped the wheel, and stopped for a red light as the emotion just sort of took over her. She couldn't tell exactly what it was, but her gut was giving her a clue. Something was not only up, but something was terribly wrong, and she could only guess that it was something to do with Huck. He got obsessed about things and ignored her directions sometimes, but never with things so mundane as looking into her father, the museum rat. She pulled into the parking garage, and barely remembered to lock her car as she walked away from it and up into the office. That was where her bad feeling in the pit of her stomach seemed to drop out from below her, like someone had yanked the rug out.

The lights were all off, which was never really something that happened at the office, and there was nobody there. Huck lived there, so even if he was done with his search, and she suspected that he wasn't when she walked into her office and there wasn't a file sitting on her desk, he would be in his room. But he wasn't. She took a deep breath, and looked around to make sure that he wasn't hiding out somewhere, or in the bathroom – and when he wasn't either of those places she headed to his dark office. She flicked on the light as she walked in, and the whole place was cleaned up. It was almost uncharacteristically clean, without papers fallen in random ordering and discarded without a whole lot of thought as a new idea came up. She had always imagined that Huck's office generally looked like Einstein's or Beethoven's, and organized mess – everything at their finger-tips, ready for the next breakthrough.

She walked over to his computer, the screen lined with sticky-notes, as per usual, and she leaned down to read them.

"I'm back," Huck said from behind her, and she jumped a little bit as she turned to see him.

"Where were you?" Olivia asked him as she walked out of his office, and he followed her to her's.

"I had to go and check on something that I found," Huck told her, and Olivia nodded as she sat down on the couch in her office, Huck took a seat on the opposite side of it.

"You found something?" She asked him, and he nodded.

"Did I ever tell you what I did before you found me, on the subway?"

"I never really asked. CIA something."

"Yeah," Huck said, taking a deep breath, "It was a very specific branch of the CIA, called B-613."

"Ok, Huck you don't have to – "

"But I do," He said, and Olivia nodded.

"Ok."

"That's where they trained me how to do everything that I do," Huck told her, and she nodded, "They head up the majority of the Black Ops missions that happen here and abroad. They also taught me how to torture, and kill people without anyone even lifting a finger, or thinking it strange. They're neat, and their tidy, and they don't exactly follow the rules that everyone else does."

"Huck, why are you telling me this?" Olivia asked him, trying to make sense of it.

"Because I had a family," He said, hunching over a little bit, "I had a wife, and a baby boy. But you weren't supposed to have that. You weren't supposed to have any attachments, or anything that you love. We were trained to be machines, and we were killers, and the guys who make the constitution, the pledge of allegiance, we make all of those possible. But those things don't just come. They're paid for, and not usually by the rules that they outline. So, anyway – we weren't allowed families. So, when the higher ups found out that I was married, with a baby – it caused some trouble. They did everything they could to try and wipe them from my memory, and they succeeded for about six years. But I was useless to them once they did that… so they released me onto the streets – I think. I'm not sure."

"Huck, why're you?"

"Because that organization, that branch of the CIA?" He said, and Olivia nodded, "It's been headed up, run by one man since the 1980s. To us, he was referred to as 'command' and almost no one was allowed to see him, the man without a face, I used to think of him as. He pulled the strings, and had more power than most anyone else in the country. And earlier tonight, when I was working on the assignment you gave me – I came across something a little strange."

He paused, but she wasn't about to speak.

"The man that I've known as 'command', that others have known as 'Rowan'…"

He paused again, but this time it was because she leaned back. She knew that name, it was familiar – but she just couldn't place where she had heard it before. Huck waited, like he thought she was going to say something, but when she didn't he gave a little nod.

"He was your father, Olivia," Huck said, and Olivia narrowed her gaze.

"You can't be serious – you can't…"

"It was hidden quite perfectly, deep in his history," He said, "I doubt if anyone doing a check on either 'Rowan' or 'Elijah Pope' would ever make the connection, but seeing as I've had experience with both – "

"My father – Huck, you're being ridiculous," Olivia said, "I'm sorry I asked you to look into him, ok? I know it was stupid, but you didn't have to make up this elaborate- "

Huck's face was dead serious.

"You're not joking, are you?"

"No," Huck said, shaking his head solemnly.

"He was…" Olivia trailed off, "You killed him."

"I went in to visit him, to ask him a few questions," Huck said, "We had an advantage because he was already sick. I could ask him questions about things that I had found, so that I could clear things up. I made sure before I – I did it between rounds. The nurses will find him soon."

"Huck, how could you - ?"

"He threw me in a hole. He threw me in a hole, and he kept me there for months until I lost my mind. Until I lost everything that ever meant anything to me," He said, taking a deep breath, "And it wasn't just me. It was – everyone that he came into contact with. He – he ruined lives, took everything from me. He didn't deserve to die on his own terms, he didn't deserve one more breath. I promised myself – a long time ago – that when I found that man I would destroy him, and I did. I'm sorry that I missed dinner. I understand if you want me to go. To leave, and not ever come back but I will never apologize for killing the man responsible for – I just won't."


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: So… enjoy :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Twenty-Five

Fitz was sitting in the Oval Office, much later than the American people probably would have liked to think about him sitting up. Especially after just being released from the hospital, they probably would have much rather liked an image of him in bed, wrapped up in Mellie's arms, recovering. Recovering. How was he supposed to recover from something like this? He hadn't told anyone, he had just let everyone fill in the blanks as to why he had passed out without any sort of warning. Well, he supposed he might have picked up on a warning if he had been paying attention. Which brought him back to where he was, sitting on the ground in the oval office, glass of scotch in hand – despite the fact that his doctors had told him drinking wasn't really the best idea – but he couldn't really bring himself to care. There were kids' cards from Olivia's kid's class on his desk. Nathan's had been mysteriously missing.

"Sir," Cyrus edged into the room – Fitz looked at his watch, leaning back against the leg of the couch, Cyrus wasn't due to leave for another couple of hours, "What're you doing down here?"

"It's less stressful than upstairs," He joked, it had always been a joke that Mellie stressed him out.

It wasn't true. Usually, he just ignored her as much as possible – but that didn't stop her from occasionally attacking him with random bouts of yelling about useless nonsense. It was easier just to wait it out until she went to bed or something on most nights so that he could just hang out elsewhere until he could just go to bed. His job would be a hundred times easier if she wasn't this ridiculous burden on his back – but there wasn't much he could do about that now. He had to remind himself why he had done it in the first place. Why he had sold what was left of his soul to get a political wife who would just sit there. It was because he couldn't have Olivia – and he couldn't do anything politically without some figure head at least. No single man had done anything. He took a deep breath.

"Should you be drinking?"

"Why not?" He asked, downing the rest of his glass and Cyrus nodded a little discouraged, sat down on the couch across from where he was sitting on the floor.

"What're you doing still up? You should be resting."

"Why wasn't Nathan's card in with the other kids' cards?" Fitz asked, tipping his head to the side.

"Nathan…?"

"The boy," Fitz's temper spiked up, briefly, "The head pilgrim from the show. Her son. Livy's son."

"Oh, I thought that might be what you were asking about," Cyrus said, "Really cute letter inside of a card – he drew himself, you and his mother – talking so you would remember who he was."

"Where is it?" Fitz asked looking up at him, angry.

"It's in my desk," Cyrus told him, and Fitz took a deep breath, "I don't think it would be a good idea for you to see it.."

"That's not exactly your place, is it?" Fitz retorted, and then took a deep breath, "You're probably right. He's not my kid, and nothing's going to change that."

"Of course he's not your kid," Cyrus said, and Fitz took a deep breath, "What do you mean, change that?"

"Nothing."

"Fitz, c'mon," Cyrus said, "Is there something you should tell me?"

"Not here," Fitz said, and Cyrus narrowed his gaze.

Cyrus just looked at him for a second.

"Tom's on the cameras tonight," He informed him, and Fitz nodded.

"She was pregnant," Fitz said, letting it escape him slowly, letting himself hear it – he had kept his mouth shut since Abby had left, "She was pregnant, the day that I left her. When I left her, there was a baby – I abandoned her and my child and…"

"Fitz, we've had this conversation before," Cyrus said, "The best thing you could have done for her and that baby was

to leave when he asked you to. That baby.."

"Died," Fitz said, "She lost the baby, and I wasn't even there. I didn't even…"

"You didn't know," Cyrus told him, "How could you have? And, to reiterate – because I don't think you heard me properly the first couple of times that I've tried to tell you this. So, clear out your ears a little bit, Mr. President. It was the best thing that you could have done in the situation, walking away. Even with her being pregnant. Even if the child had made it."

"What the hell is the matter with you, Cyrus?" Fitz asked him indignantly.

"Fitz, let me just recap for you – in case you've been missing a couple of things," Cyrus said, "The man that told you to stay away from his daughter, the one who is father of the woman you love. He's a monster, he has to be – and it's not his fault – someone's got to do it. The service, the CIA – it changes people. But we're talking about a man who authorized countless black ops missions – I don't even know what he's been up to. He ordered you to shoot down a plane with three hundred and fifty people on it. It didn't even make the news that it crashed, no one knew about it. All those people – I'm sure someone noticed some of them were missing – they were all shut up. If you had – how much easier do you think it would be for him to make a small family of three disappear?"

"He wouldn't hurt her," Fitz said, and even in his drunken state he knew it sounded stupid, "That's exactly why he said he did what he did – he wanted her to be happy – to not have to deal in Politics."

"I'm sure that's what he told you," Cyrus nearly cackled as he crossed one leg over his knee and leaned back, relaxing, like he was about to tell him a very long, very boring story, "This man, he is all about control. Anything that he can't, it annoys him to the point of insanity. A man like that should have never had a kid in the first place. He – he may have even convinced himself that he did it to keep her out of politics – but I think there are many more theories that might be more accurate. Like simply controlling his daughter, or the fact that your father saved you from becoming one of his that you couldn't be under his control, and therefore he had to control you then."

"This one night she ignored his call, came out with me instead of running to his summoning," Fitz said, and Cyrus nodded, "She went back to pack up clothes for the night – she met me at the hotel in tears, she said she fell – hit her head – she was bleeding a little bit."

"She said she fell?"

"She grew up with that guy," Fitz said, as his brain clicked, "She never had any idea. He said that her mother figured it out..."

"He would have made the three of you disappear, in a heartbeat," Cyrus said and Fitz nodded sadly.

"If she hadn't lost the baby…"

"But she did," Cyrus said.

"I can't go anywhere near her," Fitz said, and Cyrus nodded a little bit, "I wasn't there, when she needed me – I wasn't. I don't have any right to talk to her, to even – I'm the President of the United States. I am day doing something way better than I have ever even tried to do before."

"You're right, Mr. President."

"She's been in the city longer than I have, permanently. I was able to forget about it before," He said, even though it was a lie.

She was the first thing on his brain in the morning, and the last thing before he finally passed out at night. She had been, on and off for the last thirteen years, but once he got into the White House, it had reached a whole new level. The idea that she was just two or three miles away for most of her days, and that was all he could think about. If he just called for Tom and Hal, and he just drove over there. The idea that things might be different now, that he could fix what happened, it had very nearly driven him insane. It was the 'what if' to murder, bury, and destroy all other regrets. He would just lay in bed wondering what could happen. But now he knew, she had a husband, she had a kid – a life. She didn't need him coming in and screwing up her life again, she had had more than enough of that.

"Sir.."

"I'll be ok, Cy," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "I just want to know why she didn't tell me."

"Women are a mystery," Cyrus said, and Fitz nodded.

"Alright, I don't want to talk about her again, you got me?" He said, and Cyrus nodded as he watched him hoist himself up off the ground and over towards the door, "It's done."

"Yes, sir," Cyrus said, and Fitz nodded slightly.

The next morning was better than any of the days previously had been. He took a deep breath every time that Olivia came to mind, and tried not to think about everything that he had been for the past week. He had a very short run to get a few things done before he was ready for everyone to go on break for the winter holidays. He took a deep breath when he needed to make sure that his brain was in the right place. He took an extra deep breath when he had to remind himself that he was doing this so that Olivia could be ok. That he wouldn't screw up her life again. She had had enough turmoil and challenges, he had never really wanted to be one of them. He took yet a deeper breath when he sat down behind his desk towards the end of the day, and he didn't have anything else to do for the day. Everything required someone else, and normal business hours were over. Anyone who worked outside of the White House, and outside of the press core was home eating dinner. He sighed as he leaned back in his chair, and then he heard a knock on the door.

"Sir," Cyrus edged nervously into the room, and Fitz looked up from the papers that he had been pretending to look over for the third time – he had to keep himself busy.

"Yeah, Cy?" He asked, starting to recognize his own voice for the first time in a week and a half.

"You sound downright cheerful, Mr. President," Cyrus told him, his voice not quite right, and Fitz gave him a questioning look, "I mean, for you. You're going back, to normal melancholy as opposed to making me think that I should put you on a suicide watch."

"What's going on? You're nervous," Fitz told him, and Cyrus nodded.

"I am, sir," He said, giving a small smile, "I just want you to remember this talk right here. How you're feeling right now… you can handle this."

"What're you talking about?"

"There's someone here to see you," Cyrus said, taking his own deep breath, "She's very good. I tried to turn her away, but there was…"

"Cy."

"Olivia's here to see you, sir," Cyrus said, and Fitz rolled his chair back, not really having full understanding of what he was physically doing.

"Let her in," Fitz took a breath, and then it was gone.

Olivia must have been standing just on the other side of the door, because as soon as the words left his mouth, the door opened and Olivia walked in. The breaths that he had been sucking in as quickly and as often as he could all day were right out the window as he stood up, leaning on the desk with both hands as Cyrus saw himself out. He closed the door on the way out, and Fitz had a pretty good idea that he was clearing out Lauren's office, and a little way down the hallway. She had come straight from work, he could tell by the way she was dressed, the way her hair was perfectly pressed, then curled – what the hell was he thinking that he could be ok after all of this. He walked halfway around the desk.

"Hi," He said, not entirely sure that his voice was even steady enough for that.

"Hi," She said, not looking him in the eye, "You're feeling better?"

"I am."

"We need to talk," She told him.

"I assume that's why you're here," He said, and she rolled her eyes, put pointed them up at the ceiling.

More specifically, she was looking at the camera, and he knew it. He nodded slightly, and then walked – very carefully – towards the side door to the private office. There was something in the back of his mind telling him that he was going to fall over before he got to the door. He managed it, and he even managed to hold the door open for her as they walked in. He shut the door behind her, then walked over and sat down on a chair.

"Don't mind if I sit, do you?" He asked as she sat down across from her, on the couch, just where Jake had sat days ago, "I haven't been feeling so steady lately."

She nodded slightly.

"What're you doing here, Liv?" He asked, running his hands through his hair, "You made it pretty clear last time I saw you that you didn't want to see me."

He could feel his temper starting to rise. As much as he loved her, as much as he wanted to be kind, and civil, and not cause any more trouble for hler – there was anger. How could she not tell him? How hard was it to pick up the phone while she knew that he was at work and leave him a message just letting him know what had happened? He got that he was a dick, a huge one. That he didn't deserve her, and that she was so much better without him than she could ever be with him. He understood all that. But he couldn't understand her not telling him…maybe he could have figured something out. Maybe he could have been the one she was going home to every night.

"My dad passed away last night," Olivia told him, and he raised his eyebrows – then let it be silent, relief, "Don't say anything too quickly."

"Apologies, but I don't think I'll be heading up the Eulogy," He replied, wincing slightly, that was much too harsh, especially.

"Yeah, a lot of people feel that way," Olivia said, accepting it, and he nodded, "You know we were never close. At the end I just wanted Nathan to know that he had a grandfather. It's important for him to process through that normally."

"What?" He asked, and Olivia just took a deep breath.

Now that he was sitting down, he was feeling a little bit better. He was feeling much stronger, so he could look right at her, but she still wouldn't meet his gaze. It was starting to annoy him that she wouldn't look him in the eye – she wouldn't the other day, just before Thanksgiving when she was trying to get away from him. But, now that he was sitting down and could see her a little more clearly. She was different. She was sitting with her legs crossed, and her hands folded on her lap without saying anything. She was broken, she had always been broken – always. Since he had met her, and once he had met her father, he understood why. But she had never shown that brokenness, she had never looked so weak, and she had never… She shifted, and put back on the armor that she usually hauled around like a bulletproof vest.

"Nothing," She replied, shaking her head, "This was stupid, and ridiculous. I'm sorry I came in here like this. Apologize to Cyrus for me? I think I scared him. I told him I'd go to the press if they didn't let me in to see you."

Fitz raised his eyebrows as she got up and was heading towards the door.

"Well, then you must have had a good reason for coming in," He said, and she paused, turning around, "You found out what your father really did. I'm assuming last night? What was it a last minute death confession?"

"You did know," Olivia said, and Fitz nodded as he stood up, "And no, I – found that out some other way. I wasn't with him when he passed."

"He should have been alone," Fitz said simply, shrugging, "It's what he deserved."

Olivia didn't argue.

"Someone's got to do it," She commented, rather subjectively, "What I want to know is if – Oh, I'm sorry I ever came."

There was a certain amount of attitude that came with the last little bit, and Fitz knew that he had to say something if he didn't want her to storm out of there. If that happened her would never see her again, and he knew that he should have just let her go. He should just keep his mouth shut, wired shut – say nothing and let her do it herself. She was smart, she –

"You want to know what your father said to scare me away," He said it before he could talk himself out of it, and she took a step towards him, "That's what you came here to ask. If your father somehow got to me."

"So he did."

Fitz nodded.

"He did, not that it matters now," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "He was my boss in the Navy – way back when. He told me, that morning – Thanksgiving morning – that one of the missions he had me fly resulted in your mother's death. Which, I just found out was a complete lie, just something that he could tell me and convince me actually happened."

"He made you think that you killed my mother?" She asked, taking a deep breath, "It was a mission, I would have…"

"He threatened other things," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, and she nodded.

"We could have figured it out," Olivia's temper was starting to match his – he knew it, mostly because her voice was rising, "You just left me there, you didn't even try to explain, or hint…"

"Like you would have gotten any of that," Fitz said, "What was I supposed to tell you? You finally had a good weekend with your father, and I tell you that he's the CIA's hellhound? I wasn't even sure of what it was. I couldn't let you know that the first real thing that you had – you loved me. I love you, and I would never put you through that kind of pain."

"That kind of pain?" Olivia's voice spiked, and he was sure that anyone that would have been standing in the Oval could hear her, "Do you have any idea the kind of pain I was in because of you? What you fucking did to me…I lived with that man. You don't think I already assumed what he was capable of? What he might be capable of? If you had told me and not treated me like a child! There was no reason for you to keep this from me!"

"He would have killed me, he would have killed you," Fitz said, his pulse speeding up, knowing this was not a good sign – his head was not clear, "You wanna talk about not telling people things? What about you? Were you ever going to tell me what happened after I left? Something I probably should have been aware of?"

"You had Cyrus look into me?" She asked, her anger apparent and he didn't move – what? What the hell was he doing?, "Well I lost her, in case you were wondering. And I was in the hospital for almost three weeks. I got out of the hospital to magazines with you and your first lady's face on them. Pictures of you on her daddy's yacht. I didn't want to bother you, what with your prospective wife that could be seen with you in public with you then. I should go."


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: And, so pick up where we left off... enjoy :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Twenty-Six

"Liv, you can't just run away," He said, and she quite literally laughed. Out loud, and at him.

"Mr. President," She said sarcastically, it sounded like she was accusing him of something, not addressing him with his title, which was kind of a slap in the face to begin with, "Are you going to give me a lecture about running away from things? Because I should probably pull out a notebook and take notes – you _are_ the expert."

"Sir," His bodyguard popped his head into the small study, and Fitz breathed heavily as he looked over at him.

"What is it, Tom?" He asked, and the guard cleared his throat.

"I just wanted to let you know that we're in lock-down, sir," He said, and Olivia looked to Fitz.

"What now?" Fitz was acting like it was more of an annoyance than anything to actually be worried about, so she relaxed a bit.

"We're pretty sure that it was just some kids causing a little bit of mischief," Tom said, "But it's going to be a while before anyone can move. We're on full lock down."

"Are we using the bunker?"

"Not as of right now, sir, but I'm sure I'll let you know if we do," Tom replied as Olivia went over and sat down on the couch again.

Clearly, she wasn't going anywhere now.

"Thank you, Tom," Fitz said, nodding slightly, and Tom left the room, "You can't go now, neither of us can. Unless you want to get shot. And I'm not prepared to let that happen, either. They'd have to shoot me first."

He gave her a little smile, trying to be friendly. She rolled her eyes at him.

"I got that much, thank you," She told him through gritted teeth.

"I get it," Fitz told her, and she glared at him.

"Like hell you 'get it'."

"You're probably as angry, you probably hate me just as much as I've hated your dad, and myself for the past thirteen years," Fitz said, and Olivia rolled her eyes again, "You've been working less than six miles to the right of me for the past three years. If I had thought that I could fix it, or make it up to you, or somehow change what happened. Don't you think I would have?"

"Not if you were afraid-"

"Of course I was afraid!" His voice cracked a little bit, "I was terrified out of my mind. Not only did I think that I was responsible for ruining your life. He made me believe that I had stolen your mother away from you – and I had just lost mine. I wasn't going to ask you to look at me the same way that you always had before then. I wasn't about to make you relive it right then, and I was under no circumstances going to – I thought that he might kill you. Do you understand that, Livy? I thought – there was a pretty good chance – that you. My – at the time – Twenty-one year old, beautiful love of my life was going to be murdered if I stayed. He told me – He told me that if I took you and ran? Because that was my first instinct once I realized what was going on. That was my first thought, to lay low for the weekend and then take you away. As far away as I could – but I couldn't. He recognized me. He called me out. I would have rather done anything. If I thought that it would have worked - "

"You could have just told me," She said, and he swallowed.

"Could I have?" He asked, "Maybe I could now, now that you already know. So maybe we would have run off and hid out in Boznia, or Brazil, or somewhere in South America with the old Nazis, and he would still find us. Except, he wouldn't just kill us, we might actually have had a third member of our hideaway and from what I know about him, he wouldn't show any sort of mercy for his grandchild. Especially with Grant blood in 'em. That's if the child had made it, if he hadn't you probably would have died, because we wouldn't be anywhere near a good enough hospital."

"You didn't know I was – "

"I also didn't know that I didn't kill your mother," Fitz said, "And we didn't know that your father had been tailing us for months, almost a year. I didn't know how to break out and not be in politics. All I knew was that I loved you, more than I had ever loved anything, or anyone in my life – and way more than I could even fathom or understand at the time. It doesn't change anything, but I tried to think of all the possibilities – other than killing myself.. Which I did in fact consider… I don't know what else I could have done. I couldn't have told you, it would have been worse if I had. What do you think actually happened to your mother? Because I've got a pretty clear image, I had a clear imagine then, and I would have done anything to stop that from happening to you."

She froze, she didn't say anything – he was yelling again. He seemed to realize it too, because he shut his mouth and they sat in silence for a little while. Olivia found a spot on the floor, near her shoes to stare at while a couple of minutes passed in a rather awkward silence. She wondered how long these lock-downs usually lasted, but she wasn't really about to ask him. He cleared his throat a couple of times like he was going to say something, but she didn't look up, so he didn't end up saying anything. It was like he didn't really know what else to say.

"I'm sorry that whole thing with Mellie came out with such poor timing," He told her, actually entirely apologetic, "It was an arranged thing.."

"Yeah, I got that much," She said, still staring at the floor.

"It wasn't that I couldn't be seen with you, either," He replied.

"Oh yeah? I'm sure her daddy would have loved that."

"It wasn't like that," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "I asked to be fixed up – my father had been bugging me about it for years. I figured since I couldn't have you then what did it matter?"

"That's supposed to make me feel better?" She asked, trying to keep a stiff upper lip.

Honestly, it did a little bit. That had been the only question about it in her mind. She knew that he wasn't happy with her, and she knew that it was a political marriage, she had known it in her gut. It was too simple, too exactly what people would have expected. What she hadn't been able to figure out was if he had known when he had fallen for her that she was his fate, or if it was only after that he signed up on that train. Immediately, it was comforting that it was after, an act of self-loathing, that maybe she did know him after all. But at the same time, it would have been better if that had always been what was going to happen – if he hadn't cared how much he hurt her –

"No," He replied, shaking his head, "Just, you deserve the truth, all of it – now that I can give it to you."

"Stop, Fitz," She said, simply.

"I think that's the first thing you've said to me that wasn't loaded with sarcasm and loathing," He replied casually, her Fitz starting to return to his body.

That was her worst nightmare, what she dreaded in coming in to see him. The idea that he hadn't actually been completely taken over by the cold, calculating asshole that she had allowed herself to pain him as over the years. That, deep down, he was still _her_ Fitz, the sweet one that she had fallen more in love with than she ever had anyone else. It was more comforting to believe that that man was a lie. That the man who loved her more than anything, and made her knees tremble just by his presence was gone, and had never even existed in the first place. Of course, she knew that he was still in there somewhere, she just prayed that he wouldn't let him out. What would that say about her relationship with James? Her husband? She had spent so much time and effort to convincing herself -

"Well what about this James guy?" Fitz asked her, her old Fitz gone again, replaced by the angry one that she had been arguing with a moment ago, "Where is he? Why do you even care about talking to me?"

"He travels a lot," Olivia replied, "He goes to countries where pediatricians-"

"St. James," Fitz called back sarcastically, "So what? He leaves you home alone with the kid? But you wanna know what I think?"

"Not really."

"I think you like it that way."

"_Excuse me?" _

"You like that he's never home, because you don't love him. You can't," Fitz said, his voice reaching a dangerous low point, "I think you lay in bed at night, alone. And you're feeling lonely – but it's not him you miss. You go along and you're married to St. James the baby saver, but really you might like him, but you might want to love him – but you don't. You're dreaming of me, aren't you?"

"Stop," She said, and he froze.

There was silence, because they both knew he had not only crossed the line, but ran a marathon past it. She was frozen too, but not necessarily in anger – she couldn't really tell if she was yet. She was shocked, that was the majority of it. The feeling that he had pinned it up so close to the truth – or was it the truth? She had loved James, she knew that. But it was the dull, ordinarily love that might happen to anyone any moment. The love that she had convinced herself out of being in with Fitz – it was rare, and much, much different. She had convinced herself that that was ok when she was with James. That it was possible to love two people – but Fitz was right, she did dream of him. She always had, when James was away – usually - The number of times James had comforted her while she cried – especially in the beginning – for or about or in what she called 'mourning' Fitz.

"I'm sorry I said that – it just came out. I'm really – I didn't mean it," He told her, taking a deep breath – of course he had meant it, "Don't worry about me, ok? I'll be alright. I've survived this long. I don't ever want to screw anything up for you. When this is all over you go home to your husband and Nathan, and we'll just pretend this conversation never happened. We'll go back ot ignoring each other – And I am sorry. I'm sorry for all the pain that I've caused, and I'm sorry for whatever loss your feeling for your father. If you have any questions about him, you can code them out somehow to Cyrus and I'll find some way to send you answers."

"Thank you," Olivia replied, and sat in silence until Tom came back into the room.

"It's all clear, Sir," He announced, and Fitz nodded.

"Tom, please show Ms. Pope out of the office," He said softly, and Tom nodded as she got up and followed him out of the room.

"Tom?" Olivia said as they exited the Oval, and were walking down the hall of the White House.

"Yes, ma'am," He replied as they got onto an otherwise empty elevator.

"I don't know you very well, but you seem to have a pretty good eye on the President," She said sadly, and Tom must have noticed the tone in her voice, and looked down at her carefully.

"Yes, Ms. Pope," He replied and Olivia nodded, biting her lip to hold back tears.

"I guess you hear everything around here?"

"Hazard of the job."

"Take care of him, ok?" Olivia said, and it seemed as though this sentiment was a little startling to Tom, not something at he had expected, "Just, make sure he's ok, alright? Don't let him drink too much, abusing it's in his blood. And don't let anyone hurt him, ok?"

"I do my best, Ms. Pope," Tom nodded, and Olivia nodded as well.

"I just need him to be ok, alright?" She said, and Tom gave her an understanding look, "As long as he's ok, and he's at least looking like he's doing well – it'll take a little bit for him to bounce back, but he will."

"How are you so sure, Ms. Pope?" He asked and Olivia braced herself as they walked off the elevator.

"He has to."

"Ms. Pope, I've been with him a long time," Tom confessed, "I was the head of his security detail when he was governor, just after you two broke up. With all due respect, he never rebounded from that, and he'll never fully rebound from this. I used to find him wandering around mumbling your name half asleep, like he was dreaming and he didn't understand why you weren't there when he woke up. He has a country to run now, though. Many men have run this country with a broken heart. Lincoln –"

"Who knew you were such a history buff?"

"He needs to be left alone, Ms. Pope," Tom told her, and she nodded, "No more bursting in here demanding to see him, because you know he'll always see you."

"I know," Olivia said, as they reached the front door, "I wasn't planning on doing this again."

Tom nodded to her again, in a very silent, very solemn way as she walked out of the building and down the front path to walk out past the security gate. The man there who had cleared her to go in nodded slightly as she passed, in recognition, and then went back to whatever he did to pass the time when no one was coming or going in the evening. She walked over to her car, and looked back up at the White House one more time before she went to open her car door. One thing that she didn't ask, that she wanted to ask was why? Why had it always been so important for him to be in politics? Why had it been so important? Not that it mattered. She had stayed strong, and she wiped the tear that she had managed to keep in the whole time that she was in the room with him away from her cheek.

"There's my boy," Olivia smiled as she knelt down and Nathan came running into her arms, all decked out in his Buzz Lightyear PJs.

She hugged him tight, about as tight as she comfortably could as Abby, who had been watching him, came around the corner. She had her arms crossed, and Olivia stood up - momentarily lifting Nathan off the ground before setting him down. Once she did, He ran off, and she looked over at th clock on the kitchen wall. There was still a little bit of time before his bedtime, so she let him go off without saying anything. She started slipping off her shoes, she had this thing about not liking to have to be in full work attire at home, the shoes where the easiest fix.

"How'd it go?" Abby asked her, and Olivia just shrugged.

"It's over," Olivia shrugged, and her friend nodded, "I got the answers that I wanted to get, and it's done. We're not going to bother each other anymore."

"Good," Abby said, nodding once for emphasis, "That's what you wanted, right?"

"Right," Olivia told her, not entirely convinced that it wasn't a lie.

"Ok," Abby said, and it was incredibly clear that she in no way believed her, "I'm going to head out now."

"Night, Abby - thanks again."

"No problem. I'll see you in the morning."

Olivia went to Nathan's room, but paused in the doorway. She leaned against the door frame, watching him down on the floor of hos room playing with some of his matchbox cars and his Legos. She wondered vaguely - like she did more nights than not - what it would have been like if Nathan actually had his older brother or sister around. Someone to watch him, so he didn't have to go with her all the time. Someone else a little bit closer to his age so that he wasn't quite so lonely. She could see it in him. He had his friends at school, and he was hardly ever alone. But, he just had this lonesome look to him. Sometimes she couldn't be sure if it was her own feelings projecting on to him, but it was moments like this that she could really feel it. For that hour of playtime when he was on his room before bed, when she could just imagine her nearly thirteen year old in the room with him. Sometimes it was an older sister, and sometimes it was a diversifying with him building Lego houses, test tracks for his cars.

"Are you all ready for bed? Did you brush your teeth?" She finally spoke up, and his head bobbed as he looked up at her.

"Five more minutes," He tried to bargain.

"You have to go to bed, Honey," She told him, "I'm sorry. But we're saying goodbye to Grandpa in the morning."

"So is he with dad now?" Nathan asked her as she was Buckingham into bed.

She couldn't imagine that they, two complete opposites on any and every spectrum had ended up anywhere close to the same place. If there was a Heaven, and a He'll - she could probably make a pretty good guess who was where. But how did you explain something like that to a kid. Even if God was all forgiving, she couldn't imagine her father asking for it. He was too stubborn for that, and anyone could have guessed that. But how do you say something like that to a kid? A kid she had promised herself she wouldn't lie to - at least not about something like this.

"I don't know," She told him, not very comforting, but the truth, technically, "But you can pray for him, if you want."

"Ok."

"Alright, goodnight, little man."

"Goodnight, Mommy."

She shut flipped his light switch off, and closed his door over for him as she walked back out into the hall. At the end, there was a picture of her and James, large and just above the hall light switch. It was from their wedding day, she was all dressed up in that amazing white dressed that was vacuum sealed in the attic, and James was smiling. James was everywhere, in the house. He was overpowering, and no wonder Nathan was having trouble saying a firm goodbye. She took a deep breath as she looked at the portrait. She had to go through the house, make it a little more livable for the both of them. Nathan needed to start to heal, and so did she.


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: Hey guys, sorry this one took a while – hope you all enjoy :)

What Could Have Been

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Somehow he thought that it would be easier now that they had resolved things, now that they had gotten everything out into the open. They had talked, they had resolved to let it go, forget that they had seen each other. Nothing had changed now that she knew what had happened, and nothing had changed. He had always thought when she knew the truth, that it would be different. That maybe she would forgive him, and they could figure it out, figure out how to make it work between them. Then, of course, so much time had passed, too much had happened. She was married, from what he understood she was relatively happy in it. It wasn't like she had had someone match them up because she was so upset that she couldn't be with him. That was him. What had he done? Why had he just run into something so stupid.

He looked over at his nightstand, and then reached over and picked up the stress ball that was sitting in a cup holder. He squeezed it as hard as he could, before he laid back and stared up at the ceiling – trying not to prop himself up a lot. He started tossing it up above his head, throwing and catching. It was slowing his thought process, which was what he was hoping it would do. He tried to focus on the speech he was going to be giving the next afternoon. It was something Mellie's secretary had put on his schedule. He figured that was the case, but he didn't really care – it was at least going to keep him busy. He was trying to remember what they had him talking about for it, and it wasn't long before he was starting to feel exhausted. His eyes started to close, and he tossed the ball over the side of the bed.

He got to the Oval Office a little later than he usually did, but managed to get the basics out to his senior staffers. He went to his desk and started looking through the speech that they left on his desk for him to read over a few more times before they put it on the teleprompter for him. He took a deep breath as he sat down. He was barely sitting for more than a couple of minutes before the door to the office swung open – He was expecting Cyrus. He had sent him to briefing the day before because he had gotten stuck in another meeting. However, his head, gaze, and focus went right back down to the speech he was reading over once he realized that it was Mellie bustling her way in.

"Nice," She commented, clacking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she walked over and set a folder on his desk.

"What's that?" He asked, not really looking up, and Mellie took a deep breath.

"Divorce papers," She said, and his ears perked up – she had refused to sign for him about three years before, and every year until he had won the election.

"You're serious?" He asked, taking a deep breath, pulling them forward.

"I am," She replied, standing a little straighter, "It was ok when I thought you were gay – but I don't want to hang around and deal with this thing you've got going with this girl. I don't come in second – it's not something I do, never have and never will. So, I can take the hint that you're not going to get over that little bitchy – anyway. It's been twelve years. I'm done. It's not excepting defeat if the race was over before I even knew about it. I never wanted to _just_ be the First Lady."

"I'll have my lawyer look them over," He replied, nodding as he made a note in the margin of his speech, "You already signed them?"

"Not yet, it's only good form to do that part together."

"Ok."

"It'll tank your political career, you realize that?"

"And I'm sure you'll help anyway you can in sinking it," Fitz said, she didn't even try to deny it, "I know. Bye, Mel."

**December 28, 2001**

Fitz stumbled a little as he headed towards the stairs up to the main deck. That was where his father, Mellie, and her Father – Martin- were for afternoon drinks as Martin's yacht idled somewhere off the coast of Jamaica. He had been drinking all morning, well- all day, or all week. Or, of course there was a possibility he had very rarely been sober since Thanksgiving. Mellie was annoying, irritating – just the sort of person that he had always crossed the street to avoid. She was just the sort of person that he and Olivia might have spent all of three minutes making fun of. Well, he had to admit that she probably wouldn't have made them even pause a day that they could be spending together if she had walked by him and Olivia. Now he was stumbling on a boat, not because he had issues finding his sea legs, but because he was drunk, and the hot sun wasn't helping him any.

"There you are, Fitz," Gerry said as he saw him, and put a new beer inot his hand.

"You ok, Junior?" Marin asked as he gave Fitz a somewhat hillbilly condescending look.

"He's fine," Gerry said as he slapped Fitz on the back.

He hadn't been expecting this, and therefore hadn't braced himself, so he stumbled forward a little bit. The sudden movement caused his stomach to turn, and nausea to rise up into his esophagus. He swallowed, as he gathered back up his balance. Martin didn't look at all concerned really, then clapped rather loudly. This caused Mellie to hop up from the bench by the back of the boat, and come running over to where they were standing.

"Yes, Daddy?" Mellie's slightly southern drawl mixed with the pitch of her voice was enough to make someone wince, and dogs to howl.

"Why don't you kids run along and have a minute on the lower deck?" Martin suggested as Fitz finished his beer, tossing the bottle into the recycling, "There's no need for you two love birds to hang around while we talk business. Go – go and have some fun."

Fucking hick. Too bad Mellie was no Daisy Duke. And even though he was told that she did very well in school, she didn't seem to have a lot of common sense, or brain activity for day to day things. It was sort of alarming, because he got the idea that she might not know what was going on, but then again – maybe she was just ok with it. She had always seemed like she didn't really put much doubt in anything her father did for her. Fitz nodded a little bit as Mellie attached herself to his arm and he led her down to the other deck. He dropped his arm, and se took the cue to let go as he walked over and sat near the side rail. Mellie then walked over and sat down on his lap. He froze for a second, he knew for this to work he was going to have to play along, but it was almost too much for him.

"What's wrong, honey?" She asked, his ears stung as she reached up and started playing with his hair – he had to fight not to jerk away from her.

"Nothing," He told her, plastering a fake smile onto his face and leaning back like he was just pausing to let the Caribbean sun beat down on his face.

He closed his eyes, and for a second Olivia was the one sitting on his lap. Everything that had happened in the last month or so had just been a bad dream, and he had his Livy, there in his arms. They were sailing around the Caribbean together for her winter break, stopping wherever they wanted to, going to whatever islands she wanted, and just making love in their cabin for hours on end. Then, they would sit down on the side, she would curl herself up in his lap like she had so many times before with his arms around her tight –like he was afraid a wave might knock her overboard. She would smiled, and run her fingers through his hair. She'd put a hand on his chest, studying him up and lean down and kiss him. He moaned slightly at the fantasy, then felt nothing but pain as he realized who's lips were actually on his.

He held back tears until she was done, and then excused himself to run to his cabin 'real quick'. There was no turning back, he couldn't even have Olivia now anyway. There was no way she would take him back and her father – her father. He punched the top of his dresser, and looked up into the mirror. He hated what was happening to him, he hated what he was becoming. He took a couple more deep breaths and just stared at himself in the mirror. He didn't even make sense to himself anymore. He had to morph into this person, because what other choice did he have? He had to make the change because according to his father he was either in politics or he was outed as a Navy Pilot who gunned down an American Commercial Flight. No one in recent memory had won a major election single, he needed a political wife – because he couldn't have Olivia. Well, this one was top of the line.

What the hell was he thinking? 'Top of the Line' it was like he was talking himself into buying a new car, or a dog. He took a deep breath, actually thankful that Olivia wasn't there – that she couldn't see what kind of person he was becoming. But he needed to survive. And that was exactly what he was doing, surviving. He just had to keep telling himself that.

**Present Day:**

Fitz was halfway done looking over the divorce filings, which he had traded the speech for the minute Mellie had left, when herealized that he had never followed up with Cy about the meeting that he had missed. He hated missing things like that, but it was a hazard of the job, and he was still human, by the way. He couldn't possibly be in both places at once. He trusted Cyrus enough to send him to briefings though, particularly when he knew that he was going to have to look them over again anyway.

"Mr. President," Lauren said as he walked out of the office.

"Hi, Lauren," He paused at her desk and handed her the closed envelope with the divorce papers inside of it, "I want you to personally make sure that my personal lawyer gets a hold of these today."

"Should I be calling him in? Or can I send a messanger?"

"Have him come in," Fitz told her, taking a deep breath, "Tell him if he needs me you can page me without a problem. Put him right through."

"Ok, sir," She said, and he nodded slightly as he walked out of her walkthrough toward's Cy's Office.

"Cyrus?" He called as he walked into his office, and then realized that Cyrus wasn't there.

He took a deep breath, and figured he could wait around for him for a couple of minutes, and sat down on the couch on the far wall of the office. There was a large portrait of himself on one of the opposite walls that made him feel like he was sitting in his father's office. Well, not _his_ father's, but maybe a father that a normal person would have – with a large picture of his only son proudly displayed in the middle of the office. He took a deep breath and kept looking around. And then he got bored, and walked over towards Cyrus's portrait of him. It was just a little awkward for him. Then, he walked over looked over Cyrus's desk – and he noticed a folded piece of construction paper under a couple of his files.

He thought for a minute that he shouldn't – but then he plucked it right off the desk without thinking about it for a full minute. He looked at the front, where he had in fact drawn a picture of himself, Olivia, and Fitz. But there was no even attempt at a drawing of his father. Fitz raised an eyebrow as he flipped it open and read what Nathan had written:

Hi Mr. President,

I hope you remember me. I hope you get better soon. You can come and see my mom and me again. She will not mind. She has been very very sad since dad died last school year. I think she could use a friend. She says that you two used to be friends.

Get Better Soon!

Nathan

Fitz wasn't sure how, but he was pretty sure that he had stopped breathing about halfway through Nathan's note. It had been way too long since he had last breathed in, and wasn't entirely sure how he was still standing. That was until the room started to go fuzzy and move strangely. He forced his lungs to expand as he clutched Nathan's card, flipping it closed so that it was just the three of them looking up at him. Somehow, he made it over to the couch again. He took a deep breath. James, Olivia's husband had passed away? He had passed away at least six months ago?

He took a deep breath. What did that even mean? That James was gone? Why hadn't anyone mentioned that in the hell that had been the past couple weeks? Olivia? Abby? Cyrus? There was no way Cyrus didn't know, even before he got this from Nathan. Why would he keep something like that from him? What was the point? He realized that he was gripping the little get well soon card a little too hard, and it was starting to crinkle, so he tossed it over on the next couch cushion. He looked over at it, and then up at the window, as the door swung open and Cyrus walked in.

"Sir, I assume you're here for the briefing that you missed the other day?"

"Well, that's what I came for," Fitz said, standing up as Cyrus walked over and settled himself behind his desk as Fitz walked over and flashed the card at him, "Until I found this. And then, I was wondering why you had withheld it. Tell me, were you worried that I was going to get emotional because it was from her son, or were you worried that as soon as I found out Olivia was a widow I'd drive clear across town and burst through her door."

"I was actually thinking both," Cyrus told him, not getting up, and Fitz shook his head.

"Unbelievable," He mumbled, rolling his eyes at the ceiling as Cyrus cleared his throat.

"Sir, I know this is all dramatic, and terrible and all very glamorous," Cyrus paused and took a breath, "But you have responsibilities that I already have enough trouble getting you to pay attention to."

"You're right, Cy," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "I have responsibilities."

"You do," Cyrus reiterated, but he sounded a little bit scared, at what he might say next.

"I have to go," Fitz said as he headed for the door, his hand hit the frame, and he turned on his heel, "And Cy?"

"Yes?"

"Cancel my speech this afternoon," He told him, and Cyrus nodded – he had been waiting for that, "And if Lauren calls looking for me, tell her I'll be back later."

"Why would she be looking for you."

"Oh, she's calling in Danny for me."

"Danny, your personal lawyer? Why is she calling him in?"

"Because Mel and I are finally getting a divorce. See ya, Cy."

"WHAT?!"

Fitz smiled slightly as he walked away from Cy's office and he could hear him screaming almost the entire way out of Cyrus's realm of the building. He knew he had to work fast to get out of there before Cyrus could catch up with him. He got to the security office, and got Tom and Hal.

"I need to get out of here for a while," He told them, and Tom nodded slightly, "I don't want a motorcade, or anything spectacular. As limited as we can, ok?"

"Is everything ok, Sir?" Tom looked more concerned about him than anything else.

"Yes, I just really need to be somewhere right now," He said, "It's private, and I'm asking for your discretion on it, ok?"

Tom nodded, and within ten minutes he was climbing into the back of a town car that Tom was driving. There were a couple of street cars full of agents behind him, and one in front. He wasn't sure he had ever been spring from the jailhouse so quickly before – and he was perfectly ok with that. He told Tom Olivia's address – because he had had it memorized since he had first realized they were in the same town again. It was Saturday, so he assumed that she was home. He wouldn't have, if she wasn't a single mother with a kid, he would have assumed based on what he knew about her that she would be at work. There it was, the pretty little silver car Olivia had always described having sitting right in the driveway.

"You guys can all wait out here," Fitz told them, and Tom raised his eyebrows as Fitz got out of the car.

"Sir, it's not safe…"

"Tom, in that house there is a woman and her six year old son," Fitz said, taking a deep breath, "I think I'll be ok."

"Sir."

"Just you then," Fitz said, as he saw Nathan running out of the front door.

"Mr. President," He said, and Fitz smiled as he walked over to him.

"Hey, Nathan," Fitz kneeled down on both knees in the front yard, so that he was eye level with him, "I just got your card. Thanks. I liked your drawing."

"Really?" Nathan's eyes went wide.

"Yeah," Fitz said, smiling.

"You're feeling better?"

"I am," Fitz smiled, realizing just how similar his eyes were to his mother's, "Is your mom home?"

"Yeah, c'mon," Nathan said, grabbing his hand, and Fitz got back to his feet as quick as he could, "She's upstairs."


End file.
